


Vertigone

by poptartkittywoman



Category: Good Mythical Morning, Rhett & Link, Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Until Dawn (Video Game), Horror, M/M, Survival Horror, Violence, rhink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poptartkittywoman/pseuds/poptartkittywoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six young friends reunite at a snowy mountain retreat one year after Link’s sister, Jessie, and Rhett’s sister, Christy, both mysteriously disappeared in the woods. Rhett and Link try to leave the past behind them, but things take a turn for the worst when the friends become trapped on the mountain and discover hidden horrors along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Year Ago

**Author's Note:**

> First Rhink serial fic! This is an AU based on the video game Until Dawn, but you don’t have to be familiar with the game in order to enjoy it. If you have a general idea of what could happen to a bunch of teenagers/young adults in a cabin in the woods, then you're good.

* * *

 

**_vertigone [vur-ti-GON] (n.)_ ** _\- the instinctive urge to jump from high places; the “call of the void”_

 

* * *

 

_December 2014_

 

At about 10:15 PM, Rhett and Jessie started making out on the couch in the den of the lodge. Pretty much everyone else was out of it, getting drunk or making out. Blackwood Mountain had a knack for tiring everyone out with its hiking trails and shreddable mountain sides, and the Neal Estate winter lodge was more than perfect for some luxurious unwinding amidst the cold.

So Rhett thought, “Why not?” and took Jessie into his arms and into a kiss, almost on a whim. Kissing her was good. Jessie was a sweet, petite girl - one of the chillest, loveliest girls Rhett had ever met. He was forever indebted to Link for introducing him to her; it immediately made Rhett feel less guilty about dating his best friend’s sister when his best friend was practically pushing him toward her.

His hands slid down and fit familiarly at the groove of Jessie’s waist. He could smell the crackling firewood from across the room almost as strongly as her peppermint lip balm, which was slowly disappearing between their lips - and now their tongues. But the tongue wrassling only lasted briefly; Jessie was demure when she wanted to be.

Rhett couldn’t help but open his eyes when he felt something other than Jessie’s hands on his body. He let the ambient light blind him for a second before his eyes adjusted, and he looked around him: Candace and Shannon were laughing with Chase and wobbly leaving the room while holding bottles of flavored vodka; Stevie and Jen were sitting by the fireplace and chatting, peppering their conversation with grand hand gestures with their beverages; and he could hear Alex and Mike rowdily shouting in the adjoining kitchen.

And from across the room, Link was also making out with Christy - Rhett's little sister - but his eyes were wide open and locked with Rhett's.

_Well, this is awkward_ , Rhett thought.

They kept staring at each other. And kissing their girlfriends. In this ridiculously nice mountain lodge that Link's family owned. Their lips kept moving against their girlfriends - against each other's sisters (that always blew Rhett's mind every now and then), but they never stopped looking at each other.

And something else stirred within Rhett, something he always had trouble suppressing. Whenever he saw Link with Christy he couldn’t help but feel...confused. He was happy his best bro was happy with Christy and Christy with Link. They seemed like a good match. But whenever Rhett saw them, he would always feel a strange apprehension - a subtle fearful sadness, as if he was missing out. But on what exactly, Rhett couldn’t say… He always found himself start to avoid any subsequent thoughts.

He actually already knew the answer, but he was too scared to admit it out loud. And they were still looking at each other like it was some kind of twisted staring contest, and it wasn’t helping his nerves. Rhett winced. He was so tired of feeling like this. Couldn’t Link tell? It was such torture. He had to do something.

“Babe,” Jessie purred against Rhett’s lips, “what’s wrong? Your heart’s beating like crazy.”

Rhett saw Link look away and continue kissing Christy before he could speak again.

“Nothing,” Rhett said with a quick, small smile. His lack of major facial hair made everything about his mouth look small. He looked Jessie in the eye. “Hey. I think I’m gonna take a shower and hit the hay early.”

“Aww,” Jessie frowned. Then she grinned. “Can I come with you?”

Rhett couldn’t help but sigh with a wily grin. “Maybe next time.” If there was going to be a next time.

“Okay,” Jessie conceded. “Looks like Christy just finished her lip service with Link, so I’ll just hang with with them.”

They said goodnight, and Rhett started to leave the room to go through the kitchen. “Wait - Jess?” He turned around. “Can you tell Link to meet me upstairs at 11ish? I wanna talk to him.”

 

* * *

 

“Did you see that?” Stevie whispered to Jen.

Jen blinked furiously while trying to control how her head turned. She’d had half a beer too many, but her CrossFit body could take it. “See what?”

Stevie brushed her red hair over one of her shoulders with her fingers. “The two bro’s who just locked eyes from across the room.”

Jen knew she couldn’t have meant Alex and Mike - she could still hear their revelry in the kitchen. Jen unintentionally broke into a laugh. “Oh, Rhett and Link. When _don’t_ they lock eyes? They’re in love.”

“Oh man.” Stevie downed the rest of her beer and put down the glass. “You have no idea... It’s kind of adorable.” She slowly pulled out her phone from her pocket; her fingers drummed on the screen for a moment before she decided to unlock it. “But kind of not.”

“What?” Jen shook her head. “You’re speaking really soft, speak up.”

“I can’t.” Her eyes suddenly widened, darting across the room, then back to Jen. “You have to trust me on this.” She started scrolling through what seemed like thousands of pictures on her phone (80% of which were of her dog, but this week’s snowy adventures showed up first in her gallery). “I’ve been mulling over this since Monday, and it’s been eating at me. Y’know what.” Stevie took Jen’s hand and pulled themselves off the floor. “Let’s take a trip to the library where it’s nice and quiet. And private.”

“Stevie, what are you talking about?” Jen haplessly asked.

Stevie turned to look at Jen with a sober face. “You need to see this.”

 

* * *

 

Link ambled through the kitchen and saw Alex and Mike passed out at the dining counter. They sure looked like they had a fun time with Captain Morgan and some ginger ale. Link smiled. Being able to see his friends have fun and being able to house them at his family’s lodge made him happy. The first annual Friendmas had been a success.

He should have felt more urgency in his steps, but he felt relaxed. Chilling with Christy after a long day of wandering around the mountain was just what he needed. He stroked the goatee on his chin thoughtfully and continued to leisurely head towards the back stairway leading to the guest rooms upstairs. Rhett and he shared an unexpected moment just now. Link grinned to himself. It was both amusing and slightly arousing to think about, and the latter feeling surprised Link, but only a little.

He walked past the clock in the study room that was barely used. Almost 11:10. Link paused at the doorway leading to the stairs. Maybe he should take his meds now. Link shook his head; they could wait. He didn’t feel weird yet.

Rhett was waiting for him upstairs, and he was genuinely curious as to why. And also a bit concerned. Jessie tried to play it off like Rhett just wanted to chat, but Link knew better. If Rhett wanted to shoot the bull, he would’ve fist-bumped his arm and talked to him directly. Not send his girlfriend as a messenger.

“C’mon, Rhett,” Link whispered to himself. “What’s wrong..?”

Once he was upstairs, Link passed by framed photographs of him and his family on the wall: an old photo of him and Jessie posing with their parents in a cheesy family portrait; copies of their high school graduation portraits; a picture of their old dog Jade (rest in peace). The lodge had become a second home for them.

He passed by the door for the bathroom, which housed a giant bath tub literally big enough for at least five people and a glass double shower. He noticed the steamy after-warmth from someone who had probably taken a long, hot shower.

He passed by Candace and Shannon’s room (their door was slightly ajar, and he could hear Shannon attempting to rap a Kesha song, while Chase beatboxed and Candace died of laughter) before finally reaching the closed - and apparently locked - door to his and Rhett’s room.

“Rhett?” Link knocked on the door. “You in there?”

A moment passed. Then another. Link tisked. “ _Rhett_?” He knocked again. “You’re not dead in there, are you?”

The door flew open: Rhett was wearing a t-shirt and boxers and an intense look in his green eyes.

Link blinked. “Rhett?”

Rhett took Link by the hand and pulled him into the bedroom.

“We need to talk,” Rhett said bitterly. The door slammed shut behind them.

 

* * *

 

“You cannot send that pic to _anyone_.” Jen had now completely sobered up. “Holy crap, I didn’t think they actually had something going on.”

“I...had a feeling,” Stevie admitted.

“But Stevie, you can’t just send that to Jessie or Christy,” Jen raised her voice, “based on a _feeling_.”

“No.” Stevie raised a finger. “Let me finish. I had a feeling they would, cuz you know how long I’ve been their third-wheel-slash-secret-keeper?” She grimaced. “Too long.”

Jen looked at Stevie with disbelief. “It’s not like you were _actually_ accompanying them on dates.”

Stevie only stared, deadpan, in response.

“Really, Stevie? I can’t believe you. I _can’t._ ”

“Did you _look_ at the picture, Jen?”

“Yes, of course! But what were you even doing by the guest cabin? That looks like a paparazzi photo!”

Stevie swatted her hand at Jen with a pained expression. “That’s - irrelevant. Like I said, I know way too much about them. Way too much. And if I’m going to be honest, I blame it mostly on Rhett…” She paused to look back at her phone, at the damning evidence shining on her screen. “It’s not fair to their sisters. They have to know.”

“Yeah…” Jen conceded. “...but you shouldn’t butt into their business. Link or Rhett have to be the ones to do it.”

“Ha,” Stevie scoffed. “That’s never going to happen.” She stared at her phone for a moment longer. Then her thumbs started dancing on the screen. “Fuck it, I’m doing it.”

Jen’s eyes widened. “No, don’t—!” She leapt for the phone in Stevie’s hands.

Stevie jumped aside and held the phone just out of Jen’s reach. “They have a _right_ to know.” And with that, Stevie’s phone dinged as the message was sent.

Jen could feel her heart sink; she kept staring at the phone screen and the picture embedded in the text message thread for Christy. “Please, Stevie,” the dirty-blonde girl sighed. “I really hope nothing bad happens.”

Stevie shrugged. “Whatever happens, happens,” she sighed.

 

* * *

 

Christy and Jessie were still in the den area by the dying fire. It was about 11:30, and they’d gotten into a more existential conversation, partially fueled by the moscato they were sipping, but some things were genuinely on their mind. Jessie seemed determined she would go into ecology as her major, while Christy was still undecided, though she was toying with the idea of being an editor of some kind. They were going to the same women’s college, so they had time to regroup and talk about things more. Christy felt almost convinced to join Jessie’s cause of saving the environment, but she knew she was more creative than analytical.

Her train of thought was broken by the sound of a text message.

“One sec,” Christy interrupted. She blew a strand of blonde hair out of her face in frustration. “Who in the world would be texting me right now?”

“It’s cool,” Jessie shrugged.

There was a loud snoring sound that ripped across the den and caused both girls to momentarily stare at the kitchen entrance.

“Y’know…while you do that, I’m gonna go check on the bromantics in there and make sure they’re not choking on their own vomit.” Jessie got up, adjusted the beanie cap over her dark brown hair, and jogged over to the kitchen.

Christy chuckled to herself. Bromantics. She proceeded to open her text messages. There was a new text from Stevie with no preview in her inbox, but there was an attachment. She tapped on it.

She almost didn’t notice the accompanying text after the pic. The pic would normally be something she wouldn’t bat an eye at if it wasn’t for who was in it.

> _Saw this the other day.. thought you should know_

“What the…?” Christy felt herself feel colder. “No...” She started to shiver from her gut, so she hugged herself with one arm. She always felt her body temperature drop ridiculously lower when she felt anxious. Or panicked. Or sad. Or all of the above. Like right now. She became acutely aware of her increasingly shallow breathing, so she took a moment to take deeper breaths and get it together. She tossed her phone aside, and closed her eyes shut. The smartphone clunked on the hardwood floor.

A thought struck her like a lightning bolt. And it filled her with rage. She didn’t want it to be true.

Without a second thought, she rushed out of the den and to the main stairway by the front entrance. She didn’t notice Jessie re-enter the den and look on at Christy’s hasty departure in confusion, before the dark-haired girl noticed Christy’s phone on the floor, picked it up, and couldn’t help but look at the screen’s content.

The next series of moments were fuzzy to Christy. One moment she was at the foot of the stairs, and the next, she was running toward the door of Link and Rhett’s room. Her fingers gripped the doorknob and, to her surprise, it turned with ease. She didn’t think of the fact that she had opened the door without knocking, but it was too late.

That most definitely looked like a serious kiss between her brother and her boyfriend.

The two boys flinched away from each other and looked toward the doorway. Rhett looked at his sister like he was seeing a ghost. Link’s face was still recovering from whatever ecstatic feeling he was enjoying before being interrupted. His blue eyes widened and filled with dread when he made eye contact with Christy, who continued to stare at them, speechless.

Christy heard a pained yelp escape her mouth. In a moment’s notice, she was already darting for the stairs.

“CHRISTY!” she heard Link scream from upstairs.

 

* * *

 

“Christy?!” a distraught Jessie yelled after her at the foot of the stairs.

“I can’t—” the blonde girl whimpered as she ran for the door. “I have to go—”

She ran outside, ran into the snowy wilderness, and didn’t look back. She thought she would feel a courageous surge of anger and be able scream at her brother and her boyfriend, but an unshakeable humiliation overcame her.

She kept running through the snow and trees, the terrain looking all the same to her in the wake of her rush. How? How could her brother and her boyfriend do this to her? To Jessie? And for how long? Has Link been lying behind her back this whole time? And Rhett? Why didn’t he say anything? The questions kept building up in her mind so much she thought her head would explode.

Some distance behind, Jessie did her best to keep up with Christy.

“Shit shit shi—!” Jessie cursed. There were so many low-hanging branches and old trees that had fallen over and camouflaged in the snow, it was like running through an obstacle course. She knew Christy was athletic, and running was often her choice of therapy, much to Jessie’s chagrin. Adrenaline was the only way Jessie could keep up with her best friend.

“Christy, _stop!!_ ” Jessie screamed between huffs and puffs of breath. “We can talk about this back at the lodge! _All_ of us!!” Jessie still had Christy’s phone in her frozen hand.

A twist. A turn. Endless dark and shadowy trees and ankle-spraining rocks. There were constant snaps of branches and twigs Jessie assumed were from one of them. She barely heard what sounded like a distant predatory animal - like a rattling screech. All Jessie was focused on was Christy’s distant figure retreating into a patch of darkness.

“Christy?!”

_SCRRREEEEEEEEE!!!!_

Jessie froze.

She heard the spine-chilling sound - a guttural yet glass-shattering, animalistic cry.

“RUUUUN!!!!” Christy screamed at the top of her lungs, catapulted out of the darkness, and sprinted toward Jessie.

Jessie almost could not move a muscle.

The thing chasing Christy could not be human. Or animal.

 

* * *

 

“ _What were you THINKING?_ ” Link screamed in Rhett’s face. He shoved Rhett’s chest with two forceful hands.

Rhett stumbled backward. “Look who’s talking,” the taller boy scoffed. “You kissed me first.”

Link threw a punch straight for Rhett’s face without warning. His knuckles cracked against what felt like Rhett’s teeth. It felt satisfying. Not as satisfying as he felt just a few moments ago, admittedly, but good nonetheless. He watched Rhett stagger and wobble like a sycamore ready to fall, and the taller boy crumpled to the floor. He covered his face with his hands, silent - for what felt like forever.

“Go after her,” Rhett then barely whispered.

The scowl on Link’s face slowly disappeared. No fight? The more he looked at Rhett curled up and unable to even face Link, the more Link felt like a jerk. His knuckles started to ache. He just _punched_ his best friend in the face. With no thought at all. Link crouched down closer to Rhett; any words Link could’ve said never came.

“Go,” Rhett broke the silence again, barely audible. He then looked up from his hands: blood was oozing from his bottom lip, and his teeth were stained red, too. “Please.”

Link gulped. He started to reach for Rhett’s bare shoulder, then decided against it. “No,” Link said. “We should both go.”

 

* * *

 

Whatever the hell it was, Christy and Jessie ran for their lives _away_ from it.

The screeching - God, the _screeching_ \- kept them running, running. To where, only God knew. They held each other’s hands for dear life.

“STOP!!!” Jessie girl screamed.

They both stumbled to a stop a few feet from the edge of a suddenly sharp cliff. The rocky ground below looked so unforgiving. Christy felt herself reel back from the sight, but she couldn’t help but feel a strange, faint urge from the insane height of the cliff...like she wanted to jump off the cliff anyway.

“Christy!!!” Jessie shouted and pulled her to face the forest again, their backs now facing the precipice. The dark-haired girl squeezed Christy’s hand tighter.

The creature jumped from the woods and into the clearing, just yards away from them.

Jessie impulsively stepped backward - too far back. She felt the ground give beneath her heel and a stray branch scratch her leg. The night sky blurred past her vision.

The creature shrieked an ungodly sound as they both slipped over the edge.

 

* * *

 

“Where are they?” Link interrogated.

“I...I don’t know.” Jen shrugged with all hope lost in her body. “I thought I heard them leave the lodge a little while ago when I was making some coffee in the kitchen.” She shone her flashlight on some possible footprints in the snow. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Rhett helplessly looked out into the distant, forested horizon. “Jessie!!!” he shouted.

Silence. Nothing but the falling snow and howling wind.

He looked back at Link, who also stared into the distance and marched further down the main path, away from him and Jen. Rhett heaved a sigh - a thick, white cloud from his breath. The three of them had been scouring the nearby woods for the past twenty minutes now...and the longer they looked, the more guilty Rhett felt.

 

* * *

 

Christy felt herself yanked back and downward in a deathly drop.

“NO—!!” She gripped the only thing she was able to spot in the dark - a thick branch that barely reflected some moonlight. She couldn’t help but look back down to see Jessie still holding onto her hand, screaming, and staring back with the fear of God in her eyes.

“Hold on!” was all Christy could shout to her friend. “Just—hold on!!”

They then heard the creature wailing, as if in pain. Almost instantly after, Christy saw orange light glowing from the surface and disgusting sounds of bones breaking mixed with the creature’s sickening cries and the smell of burnt flesh. One last piercing shriek sounded above the rest of the horrifying sounds.

Then Christy became face to face with another creature - a shadowy figure with even bigger, bulbous eyes.

“Holy shit—!!” Christy nearly let go of the branch. Her fingers started to feel numb.

It vaguely looked like a man wearing goggles, but she couldn’t tell. His body shook and outstretched one of its hands with effort. There was still some distance between her and his grody hand, and he couldn’t reach any further without possibly falling over.

Her fingers kept slipping… She felt torn apart by Jessie’s weight and holding on to the cliff. Christy didn’t know what else to do. “I’m sorry, Jessie...” she whispered.

She let go of Jessie’s hand.

“AAAHHHH—!!!” Jessie’s voice echoed the further she dropped from the cliff.

It was so wrong. Christy didn’t think she’d be able to live with herself. But salvation seemed so close now that she was able to grip the branch with both of her hands—

—and the branch snapped in two from the face of the cliff.

 

* * *

 

Link checked his phone: almost 2 in the morning.

  
At this rate, Link thought, he and Rhett were going to be there all night looking for their sisters. He could only hope that they had somehow gotten back to the lodge and were safe and warm. But something in his gut told him otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I don't hate their wives. They're lovely women.


	2. Butterfly Effect

_December 2015 - 7:42 P.M._

 

“Precisely, Lorhetta,” the detective being interviewed said gravely, “I’m here this morning to talk about just that: Today marks the anniversary of the disappearance of Jessie Neal, the daughter of entrepreneur Charles Neal II of Neal Estates, and her friend Christy McLaughlin.”

“Goodness,” the DJ said, “it’s been that long already. For those of you just tuning in, I’m here with Detective Gabe Seaborne from the Alberta Police Department. Detective, please give us a rundown of the case for those listeners who may not be familiar with it.”

“Well, exactly one year ago, these two young ladies mysteriously disappeared - _vanished_ practically - in the early morning hours on Blackwood Mountain - colloquially called ‘Neal Mountain’ by some. Jessie’s brother, Link Neal, searched all night for them with the help of some of his friends and the authorities, but to no avail...”

Jen turned down the volume of her radio app to check the view outside her window. The bus continued to roll down the snowy road toward Blackwood Mountain. The sky was a flat, indigo sheet, making the trees appear like dark gray bushes covered in a fine, white powder.

“...have said that the only promising suspect has had previous conflict with the Neal family - a Mr. Ryder Parnes, a former security guard and falconer who’s protested against the family’s development of Blackwood Mountain and the surrounding pines for the past 30 years, sometimes even issuing threats against the Neals in the form of - and I quote - ‘the Native American curse rampant on the mountain’.... Right. Anyway, that lead soon led nowhere, but he’s still at large and very much wanted by the authorities to this day. It was a possibility that he could have been squatting in the abandoned Blackwood Sanitorium, but the site has been deemed inaccessible by the authorities since the 60’s...”

“Jeez,” Jen sighed. She closed out of her radio app.

Jen looked out the window again and read the road sign: Blackwood Pines - 1 mile. _No more public radio for today_ , she thought. She decided to open her text messages to re-watch the group video message that Link had sent to her, Stevie, Rhett, Candace, and Chase. After hearing that awful reminder on the radio, she wanted to see a happier-looking Link in a video she was pretty sure he had filmed in his bedroom.

“Is this thing on?” Link’s voice sheepishly began. The dark-haired boy then appeared in the shot and got settled. “Hey, guys - Link here.” He waved with a wide, toothy grin. “I just wanted to say that I’m so excited to see you guys again at the lodge for the second annual Blackwood Friendmas! Aw yeah, it’s gonna be crazay. It’s too bad Alex and Mike - oh, and Shannon, too, dang - it’s too bad they can’t make it this year. But hey, what can ya do?” He chuckled. “Anyway, um… let me address the - address what you guys are probably thinking. I think Jessie and Christy would be more than happy that we’d be hanging together again. Let’s do this as a celebration for them and for _their_ sake and not be too sad about it - it _has_ been a year...” His smile was small, sheepish but sincere. “So LET’S PARTY LIKE WE’RE FREAKIN’ PORN STARS, WOOOO!” Link flailed his arms in the air in what could have been a perfect impression of Kermit the Frog.

Jen smiled. It was the silliest and happiest she had seen Link in a long time.

 

* * *

 

The cable car arrived for Rhett and Stevie. They had exchanged some small talk outside at the station, but they entered in silence. They both kept their hands in their deep jacket pockets and sat across from each other.

“So. How’ve you been?” Stevie asked quietly.

“Pretty good, pretty good,” he nodded

“Cool, cool...” Stevie nodded back. “Happy to be back on the mountain?”

Rhett shifted in his seat. “I’m glad to see Link’s doing much better,” he smiled. “He was so stoked when he told me he wanted to do this.” Being the giant he was, Rhett was already seated in a hunch to make himself smaller. Somehow, he made himself even smaller. He started bouncing his leg on the ball of his foot and looked out the window. The snow had started to pick up a little.

Stevie looked at him from head to toe and toe to head (and once more for kicks). “You’re a terrible liar,” she grinned.

“I know.” Rhett’s face gradually looked more visibly forlorn. “It hasn’t really been the same since last year, Stevie.” He looked her in the eye. “I mean - don’t get me wrong - we talk every day. We hang out. Whatever. It’s just that...you remember how he didn’t talk to me for _at least_ two weeks afterwards? I feel a little bit of that distance to this day. It’s like he’s holding me at arm’s length. For who knows how long?” He started rubbing his neck and looked out the window again. “There’s so many things I want to say to him.”

“Maybe you should tell him how you feel,” Stevie urged. “Tell him what you’re telling me right now. Don’t let your feelings collect dust.”

Rhett said nothing. He kept looking out the window, his stare deep into the dimming sky. “I remember back in first grade how we met…” He smiled slowly. “I was being a smartass, scribbling some curse word in my notebook - so big on the page, the teacher sent me to the back of the classroom. That’s where Link was sitting.” He turned to Stevie, still wearing a warm smile on his face. “It was like fate. That one little misguided action gave me my best friend.”

“Like a butterfly effect,” Stevie chimed in.

Rhett thought about that. “Huh. Yeah, you could say that.”

“If you believe in that,” she shrugged.

Rhett shrugged, too. “You are right about one thing.” He looked out the window again. “I have to try and talk to him. Again.” He took a deep breath. “I already know I’m gonna fail, but I’ll keep trying.”

“Well,” Stevie said, crossing her legs, “if you ever need moral support or a listening ear, you know where to find me.” She patted his knee.

Rhett looked at Stevie without turning his head. He smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Stevie. You’re a good friend.”

Stevie sheepishly smiled. “It’s what I do.”

 

* * *

 

“Come onnnn, man,” Candace said to herself. Standing in front of the lodge, she zipped up her padded coat and put her fur-lined hood over her head. 

It was cold as balls. Chase was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. She’d said hi to Link already and left her stuff in the foyer. He had to go check on something with the cable cars or something, so she was left by herself. But she didn’t want to go back inside until Chase was here. That little chinchilla lover had a penchant for being “fashionably late” as he liked to think of it. Candace took another deep breath and rubbed her hands together. Might as well kill some time.

She remembered there being a telescope post nearby the lodge. Maybe she could see some squirrels or sasquatches in the woods.

She hop-skipped over to the post perched on a hill not far from the back door of the lodge. The telescope looked more like a chrome set of binoculars attached to a pole in the ground. She eagerly took a peek through it and gazed at the nature. Falling snow. Billowing trees. Ancient rocks. There were a few squirrels milling about, what few she could decipher in the increasing darkness. The whole landscape appeared dark gray with muted shades of their natural color. About a minute later, when it got a bit darker, the lodge’s security lights turned on.

“ _Much_ better,” Candace said to herself. “Now, let’s try to find something...juicy.”

More snow. More trees. Some phallic-looking rocks. A fat squirrel - that almost took the cake. She had to admit though, the falling snow through the telescope reminded her of a nice little snow globe...

...a snow globe with some rustling bushes.

“Oooo, what do we got here?”

Clumps of snow from the bush fell away, and the bush now shook. Whatever animal was in there was struggling to get out of there. Seconds passed. Then a minute. Two minutes. Candace held her breath.

Then the thing emerged.

“What the—?” Candace gasped.

The shadow resembled a Nosferatu figure with a hideous hunchback and a...and no mouth? She couldn’t tell, but it vaguely resembled a person hunting ready to hunt an animal. But that couldn’t be right - _right_? She thought it was just going to be them on the mountain this week, and Link said he made sure all the gates and cable cars were only accessible with his key and whatever the hell else he had to do to lock this place down. The figure was slowly walking - like a human! A person! Barely. It had to have been a guy with a hunch  - walking, stalking, moving somewhere else obscured by some trees—

“BOO!” Chase’s round, white face filled her viewfinder.

“BLAHH!!” Candace jumped and grabbed Chase by the arms. “Don’t _do_ that!” Her hood had fallen back and let loose her long, brown, wavy hair and freckled face. 

“Sorry…” Chase pulled her in for a tight hug, which Candace gladly returned. “You were so into it, I couldn’t resist.” He pulled away to look at her. “What _were_ you looking at?”

Candace stared at Chase for a moment. “Possibly a sasquatch. Probably just a bear.”

Chase gave a wry grin. “Probably. Come on...let’s go inside. Silly.”

 

* * *

 

“GUYS! Wait up!!” Jen’s voice called after Rhett and Stevie. They were just about to cross the old, wooden tunnel bridge that lead to the estate area.

The giant and the redhead turned around and waved at Jen’s distant figure - a short, dirty blonde girl with an orange beanie cap and a giant backpack stuffed for the winter. 

“Jehhhhnnn!” Rhett sang. 

“Get over here, girly!” Stevie called. “We didn’t know you were behind us!”

Jen jogged over to them and gave them both hugs. “I saw you guys get on the cable cars just as I was dropped off by the Greyhound, so I was a ways away. Got some cardio in, for sure, heh.” 

The three of them entered the bridge. Rhett had two of his close girl friends with him. He felt a bittersweet warmth in his chest. Jessie would love being here with them, hanging out like they always did back in town.

The old bridge they were walking through had age-weathered wood panels and rusting beams, both of which cricked and creaked under the elements. Jen and Stevie were talking in front of Rhett, as their footsteps made the wood panels squeak with them.

“So. Candace and Chase, huh?” Jen started. “Shannon must be over the moon." 

“Oh,” Stevie chuckled. “As soon as Mike detaches himself from Alex’s hip, maybe they’ll finally be able to go on double dates.”

Rhett walked behind them silently - didn’t seem like a conversation he could contribute much to.  A dropping of white nearly grazed his jacket all of a sudden. Rhett looked up: a crow stood perched on one of the beams. Jeez. Crows were as eerily intelligent as they were assholes, apparently. Without the old, dying lamps hanging from the concave ceiling of the tunnel, they would be walking in virtual darkness. The bridge was only, maybe, ten yards long; but every step Rhett took made it feel like it was getting longer.

“This tunnel gave me the creeps last year,” Jen uttered, “and it still does.”

“We’re all in the same boat,” Rhett remarked.

Nearly toward the end of their path, the bridge moaned and the roof squealed in time with a brief gust of wind. Rhett stumbled, startled.

“Frick,” Jen whispered.

“ _Frick?_ ” Stevie said. " _Frick,_ Jen?"

Rhett shook it off. “It’s the wind, guys.”

With a silent, collective sigh, they kept walking. That’s when a man jumped down from the roof and lunged at them menacingly at the end of their path.

Jen and Stevie screamed.

“WHOA—” Rhett nearly tried to clock the man in the gut if it weren’t for the familiar, side-splitting laugh he heard coming from the silhouette blocking their path.

“Jesus, Link,” Stevie hissed and tried to compose herself. “What a fucking welcome.”

Link stepped into the lamplight and kept laughing. “You should’ve seen your _faces_ . Holy _crap_.”

“Hardy har,” Jen said.

Rhett just stood there with a feeling over him he couldn’t quite pinpoint. An incredulous amusement, perhaps. Just Link being Link… Rhett watched his goatee’d friend attempt to smooth things over with the girls and shook his head.

“I almost assaulted you just now,” Rhett said more tensely than he thought he would.

Link looked at Rhett like he had just noticed the tall boy’s existence. “Whoa now, Rhett.” He stood back with his hands up. “Let’s not make things hostile here. I didn’t mean to start anything, just some harmless fun before tonight’s festivities.”

“You say that after you decided to _jumpscare_ us,” Stevie chimed in. “On this decrepit bridge.”

“Hey. I was just on my merry way to lock up the cable cars and thought I might as well greet you guys early if I saw you.” Link shifted his weight between his feet. “A little jumpscare never killed nobody.”

They all stared at him with incredulous faces for a good moment.

“What?” Link looked at them, shrugging.

Rhett saw Jen shoot a suspicious look at Stevie. Stevie glanced at her with saucer eyes. He looked back to his friend and stepped forward. “Link… I’m just gonna say this right now and acknowledge it - cuz we’re all thinking it,” Rhett began. “This week is going to be...awkward. It just is. The sooner we acknowledge that, the easier it’ll be to just...enjoy ourselves while we’re all here.”

Link raised his brows, then sighed. “Alright. You’re absolutely right. I didn’t mean to make things weirder than they already were.” He nodded. “This week’s gonna be fun and drama-free, I promise.” 

“Alright,” Rhett started nodding too, almost subconsciously. “So are we all cool?”

Link looked up and, to Rhett’s surprise, wore a warm smile. “Yeah, we’re cool, brother.”

Rhett smiled. “Cool.”

“Oh my god,” Stevie said, “are you guys gonna _make out_ now?” 

Link turned to Stevie and blurted, “Ohmygawsh yeah, we’re sooo gonna make out.”

Rhett could only stare at him.

“Jeez,” Jen laughed and gave a playful shove at Link, “save it for the lodge.”

Link genuinely giggled and started to step past the three of them. “I gotta go back to the cable cars first, make sure no creepy psychos can get on them, yadda yadda.” He looked at Rhett in passing. “Then we can make out.”

Stevie hooted; Jen had to pull her redhead friend along. “We’ll be _waiting_ then,” the dirty-blonde girl said, almost in a laugh.

Rhett knew Link was being playful - almost _too_ playful - but something about the purr in Link’s voice just now kept Rhett frozen still. He watched Link strut down the dim tunneled bridge, snow peppered on his army jacket, and watched his figure emerge back into the snow. Rhett nearly missed Stevie and Jen calling for him.

“Enjoying the view?” Stevie shouted.

“Heey—!” Rhett hissed. He glanced back in Link’s direction, then back to Stevie, then back to Link. “You guys can go ahead. I...I have to talk to Link about something before we go to the lodge. It’s important.”

Jen and Stevie exchanged looks again. _Why do they keep doing that?_ Rhett thought.

“You sure?” Jen asked. “It’s a super long trek.”

“It’d be a shame if you and Link got snowed in over there,” Stevie said flippantly.

Rhett gave her a look (to which Stevie smirked). “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Save me a cup of coffee when you get there.” He waved and jogged back down the bridge without further word.

 

* * *

 

Link turned the key of the switch board’s ignition in the cable car station. He didn’t bother with the station at the bottom of the mountain - a million miles from the lodge; it’d be pointless for a hobo to try and activate it if they didn’t have the key. Any and all cars would stay put until someone at the lodge _really_ wanted to make a spontaneous shopping run in town without hiking down the mountain or the end of their annual Friendmas came. Whichever came first.

He heard soft, rhythmic footsteps crunching the snow outside. Paranoia sunk in. He switched off the lights; put his key ring back into his pants pocket. He peered out the one-way window above the switch board and saw a tall figure jogging from the horizon.

Link squinted. _Crap_ , he thought, _I think I might need glasses._ He was pretty sure who it was, but the lack of light and 100% certainty still made his stomach feel like a butterfly garden.

Link quickly flanked the doorframe of the station and waited. He heard a crow caw and flap its wings in its wake.

A few moments later, he heard the unmistakable cussing of a McLaughlin.

“Dammit! Dammit, ow! Holy—stop—!” Rhett’s distant voice cursed.

Link craned his neck out the door: a crow was flapping above Rhett and pecking at his head. Link blinked and did a double-take. Something out of a freaking Hitchcock movie right there.

He moved quickly and ran into the snow. Rhett was still struggling to fight off the murderous crow, who really seemed to have a vendetta with Rhett’s almost-buzzcut hair. Link scooped a couple heaping handfuls of snow, crunched it into a tight snowball, and hurled it at Rhett’s head.

“AAHH—!” The tiny explosion of snow knocked back Rhett, causing the crow to sputter and flutter away. “Jeez…” Rhett nursed a small scratch on his brow. “Thanks… I don’t know where the heck that came from.” 

Link threw another snowball at Rhett’s face for good measure. 

“What the hell.” Rhett sighed. “Link, I don’t feel like throwing a—”

“Too bad,” Link smiled. He crouched down and quickly threw together some snow and shoved it into Rhett.

“ _Dude_ —!” Rhett staggered back. Crumbling snow bits were peppered all over his face and chest. He started to bend down to fetch some snow.

“Ohhhh no ya don’t!” Link bulleted away from Rhett. “You’re ne’er gonna catch me, ya dirty sheriff!” Link retreated to a nearby tree. Gollee, he didn’t know what he was doing, only living in the moment. He didn’t know if he wanted to cringe or let himself crack up. _Just let some lighthearted spontaneity_ be _for once, Neal_ , he thought.

“Ohoho, we’re resorting to _roleplaying_ now?” Rhett’s voice echoed. “Okay, _Link…_ I’m gonna _throw_ ya in the slammer with all the other bad boys in this here parts,” he shouted in his best twang.

Link cringed. “Okay, no— _no_ ,” he laughed. He peeked from behind his tree out of sheer obligation. “That was the _worst_ impression of an Old Western sheriff I’ve _ever_ heard, and it sounded vaguely dir—”

A snowball clocked him in the face.

“YEAHHH, headshot!” Rhett roared.

“Oh _SNAP!_ It’s on now, brother!” Link slugged another quick snowball (missed, dangit) before he ran to another flanking point.

It was a worthy snowball fight. Rhett tried to close the distance between them with calculated close-range shots, but Link kept pummeling his friend with rapidfire snow. At one point, Rhett retreated into the wooded darkness surrounding the car cable station. Link emerged from his post and slowly walked out into the open.

“Rhe-hehhhhtt,” Link called out. He puffed his chest out in victory. “ _Are you not entertained?!_ ” he shouted. His echo answered. He turned around—no Rhett behind him either. The boy spread his arms open. “ _Is this not why you’re here?!_ ” Nothing but his echo answered him.

Link took a step to turn around and was instantly pummeled to the ground by Rhett’s bulldozing weight.

“DANGIT!” Link screamed with laughter. He caught himself lying face-up and looking at Rhett’s face hovering over him. “Aw wow, that tackle...that nearly gave me whiplash, brother. Y’sure it’s too late for you to get a football scholarship?”

The corner of Rhett’s mouth curled wistfully. He chuckled. “Nah, I’m barely hanging onto my basketball scholarship as it is.”

“Yeah, ya party animal,” Link jabbed with a smile. “I barely see you in the dorm nowadays. _Never_ see you in the library, either.” Link looked past Rhett’s shoulder for a second. He couldn’t help it; Rhett’s eyes were too intense for him sometimes. “Must’ve met someone, I bet.”

Rhett didn’t say anything. He kept staring at Link the way someone stares at an abstract painting: his brow a little creased with curiosity and his eyes looking deeply into what was before him, trying to find something there that he wasn’t sure was even there at all.

“Can I ask you about something?” Rhett suddenly asked.

Link felt naked. “Sure, go ahead,” he said coolly.

Rhett bit his lip and suddenly lowered himself, his nose grazing Link’s. Link gasped.

“Sorry—” Rhett started to blush. “My back hurts.” The taller boy must have been planking above him or something ridiculous that only Rhett’s six-foot-five body could do. He collapsed next to Link in the snow, his head ever-so-slightly touching Link’s hair. “Mind if we talk like this?” Rhett chuckled.

“Haa, nah not at all…” Link gazed at the sky, pitch black and smooth like an untouched chalkboard. The snow had stopped falling at some point during their snowball fight. Link hadn’t noticed. He did notice Rhett wasn’t talking. “Hey.” Link bumped Rhett with his head. “What’s going on in that small head of yours?” 

“Do you remember first grade?” Rhett asked without missing a beat.

Link blinked. “It’s kinda fuzzy. I do remember meeting you.” He smiled. “Can’t forget that.”

“Heh, yeah…” Rhett tilted his head and bumped Link again. “Did you ever think we’d be friends for so long after that?”

Link thought about it. “I don’t think my first-grade brain could’ve fathomed that… But it does blow my mind.” He kept smiling.

“Me too,” Rhett’s small, smiling voice said back.

They lay there in silence for a few moments.

“That’s not why you jogged all the way back here though, is it?” Link asked. He turned over in the snow to look at his supine friend. “You’re not much of a nostalgic. What’d you really wanna ask me?”

Rhett lay there for another breath before he languidly started to sit up. “ _Oh_ ,” Rhett sighed. “You know.” He sat in a hunch, his legs comically stretched out in front of him. He brought his knees in and hugged them. He looked at the very small space of snow between them; he seemed like he couldn’t bring his eyes to meet Link’s.

“Rhett?”

He hesitated. Then he mumbled something.

“What?” Link prompted.

Rhett winced. “Do you miss her, Link?” Rhett’s voice shook. He then looked at Link with a pain in his face that threatened to crack his composure. “Do you miss them?" 

Link felt torn. Something was up with Rhett. But the tears welling up in those green eyes pierced Link’s heart. He had to look away.

“Do you?” Rhett asked, almost angrily. 

Link choked. He looked at Rhett again. Did he miss Jessie and Christy? Did he think about them every night since _that_ night? Did he think about how miserable Rhett looked fishing the darkness with nothing but a flashlight and some hopeless optimism? Did he wish he could seek comfort from his best friend every night he woke up in their dorm from the same damn nightmare - but for some ungodly, _cowardly_ reason, he could not bring himself to be physically closer to his best friend again? Did he?

Link silently reached around Rhett’s shoulders and pulled him in. Rhett buried his head in Link’s shoulder and started crying. When he started sobbing, Link held him tighter. He held him with both arms and brought him closer. In the middle of this dead, snowy field, Link felt as sad as he felt warm with Rhett at side. He let himself cry, too. He missed this.

“I miss them, too,” Link whispered.

 

* * *

 

_That damn Neal kid again_ , he thought. _And his boyfriend._

He waited behind his pine tree. It wasn’t hunting hour yet.

  
A distant screech pierced the night air. Not an animal...but not human either. Those damn boys didn’t even flinch. They were sitting ducks.


	3. Cold

_April 2014, 12:13 A.M. -  Senior Prom_

 

“What a _bitch_ ,” Stevie’s voice pierced the bathroom. “I am done. I am so— _effing_ done. I’ve dealt with so much bullshit for one night, I’m ready to get schlitzed.” Two sets of footsteps stomped and clacked on the tile floor, and a sink was forcefully turned on all the way.

Candace stood frozen inside the safety of her stall. She was just about to open the door, but the prospect of facing a fired-up Stevie made Candace reconsider leaving the toilet. It was nice and peaceful in the bathroom anyway. And the music from the dance floor sounded dreamy muffled by the door, but it was gradually muffled by Stevie’s growing rage.

“It was just a misunderstanding,” Jen’s voice tried to reassure her.

“I don’t _care_.” Candace heard what sounded like paper towels being wiped on fabric. “She didn’t have to splash her drink on me. I got the point. She wasn’t interested.”

“Maybe you could’ve been less, erm,” Jen hesitated, “forthright. If you catch my drift.”

“Or maybe,” Stevie retorted, “she could stop making out with Candace, and Mike, and everyone and their grandma for God’s sake. Good _grief_ , Shannon could do so much better, but _nope!_ I’m stuck here getting dumped by Becca and getting Kool-Aid poured on me, all in one night - not to mention tricking Jessie and Christy into thinking their boyfriends are straight.”

“Opting to hang with the girls so Rhett and Link could go get booze doesn’t mean anything.”

Stevie’s laugh bounced off the bathroom walls. “Keep telling yourself that, Jen. They’re off blowing each other thanks to me.”

“Come on, Stevie…”

“Dude, I’m _not_ even kidding.”

_Oh shit_ , Candace thought. She didn’t even wanna know what was up with Rhett and Link... But Candace wasn’t going to let someone else talk trash about her best friend - especially if that ‘someone else’ was supposed to be another so-called friend. Candace took a deep breath. She opened the stall door.

“Hey, Stevie, Jen,” Candace walked over to them.

Stevie and Jen turned to look at her. Jen’s evening sheath dress was cute; Stevie’s two-piece suit had a cherry red stain the size of Texas. Stevie eyed Candace with immediately pleasant surprise.

“Well, well, it’s Candace. Or should I say, Can’t- _dance_.” She tried to laugh off the really lame joke, as if Candace hadn’t heard everything she’d just said before Candace left the stall. “I’m totally kidding, you’re a great dancer. Much better than me, at least.”

Candace forced a laugh. “Oh man, I’m sorry about what happened to your suit,” she casually said, “but I think you missed a spot.”

She slapped Stevie in the face.

 

* * *

 

_December 2015, 8:51 P.M. - The Lodge_

 

“Well, well, it’s Can’t- _dance_ Candace,” Stevie walked over to the couch to greet her friend. She had just come from unpacking upstairs.

Candace blankly looked at Stevie for a split second before the brunette mentally checked back into reality. “Hahaaa good one, Stevie Nicks.”

Oh man. Another awkward week with _this_ girl. They weren’t _not_ friends, but it had been...a while since the last time they could speak normally with each other without dancing around a certain face-slapping elephant in the room. Even last year at the lodge was a bit stiff when they weren’t with their respective closer friends. Almost as if Stevie wanted to say something to her...but couldn’t.

Chase was relaxing next to Candace on the couch, his arm around her shoulders. He warily shifted his glance between the two girls. He was well aware of the vibe between them, and Candace knew that (and was grateful for it).

“It’s nice to see both of you,” Stevie curtly smiled at Chase and Candace. She cocked a brow at Candace. “Though it is strange to see you without Shannon crawling behind you,” Stevie remarked.

Candace craned her neck. “Excuse me?”

Jen overheard this exchange from the safety of the kitchen; she’d stepped in to make some coffee for everyone while they got settled in the foyer area - a giant living room in its own right. But something in her gut told her to eavesdrop - just in case. Stevie, Candace, and Chase were silent for a few seconds. The cathedral-like lodge interior was dark and cold, cold, cold when they came in. They were all waiting for Link and Rhett to come back - mostly for Link to adjust the hidden thermostat and unfreeze the place. But things were already starting to heat up, it seemed.

Candace fell back into the couch cushions. She crossed her arms. She had a choice: to be a dick, or not to be a dick? If Stevie said something snarky again, her decision was made.

Stevie hesitated; her face seemed to be weighing the same options.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say ‘crawling’,” Stevie said coolly after a moment. “I meant to say… ‘trying to suck your face off in front of your boyfriend because her standards are as low as her IQ’.”

_Be a dick it is then,_ Candace thought.

“ _What?_ ” Candace catapulted from the couch. “What the _hell_ is your _problem_ , Miss Frigid Bitch? We’ve all done crazy shit when we’re drunk, and you’re sure as hell no exception.”

“Candace, please.” Chase got up from the couch.

“Babe—” Candace looked at Chase like he had two heads. “Did you not hear what she just _said_ ?” She looked back at Stevie. “Thought we could get past all that, Stevie. But I see there’s still a _prick_ of bitterness in the room.”

“Oooo, sick burn.” Stevie took a step toward Candace. “Don’t worry,” Stevie continued, “I really am happy you and Chase are a thing now. Seriously, _mazel tov_.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s just too bad you guys can’t double date with Shannon and Mike anytime soon cuz they’re both too busy sleeping with other people.”

“What—?” Candace became livid.

“Stevie, knock it off,” Chase raised his voice. “That's way over the line.”

“No, _you_ butt out of other people’s business,” Stevie snapped back.

“I’m about to get up in _your_ business, sweetheart.” Candace stepped up to Stevie. “You’re just jealous Shannon didn’t want any business with _your_ butthurt ass. So you’re gonna go ahead and take it out on me?” She got in Stevie’s face. “Yeah, that’s real cute. Get over yourself. It’s been _more_ than a year.”

“ _Butt-hurt ass_?” Stevie enunciated the words. She scoffed and stepped back from Candace’s reddening face. “Is that supposed to be an insult? Am I supposed to be offended by that drool from your mouth?”

“How about I backhand your dumb contoured cheekbones like I did last time?”

“Oh, I’d _love_ to see you try that again, you c—”

“GUYS, STOP IT.”

Everyone looked toward the door.

Link held up his hands. Rhett incredulously looked at everyone in the room. The two of them stood before them, fresh snow still sprinkled on their shoulders.

“How long have you been there?” Chase asked, embarrassed.

“Long enough,” Link said tersely. “Guys, this is _not_ why we’re here. If we can’t even be together in the same place for - what, twenty minutes? - then maybe we all need a break from each other for a little bit.” Link began digging in his pants pocket for his key ring.

“Yeah,” Candace scoffed, “I’d like to stay the hell away from _your_ pasty face.”

Stevie only looked back at Candace with a level of contempt Rhett had never seen in Stevie before.

“Chase, here.” Link took out his keyring and tossed Chase a key. “Why don’t you and Candace check out the guest cabin. You remember where it is?”

“Oh, yeah,” Chase said. The tension in his features immediately melted away. “Come on, Candace. It’ll be a nice getaway.”

“Get away, indeed,” Candace uttered. She nestled herself into Chase’s side as they headed for the other side of the lodge to leave through the back.

Rhett kept looking at Stevie; Stevie felt his stare and suddenly grimaced at him.

“W-what?” she sputtered. “I know, I may have...dampened the mood. Sorry.”

“Just...” Link interjected. He looked away and waved his hand. “Don’t be like that again.”

“Like what?”

“Like _that_ ,” Rhett gestured in Candace and Chase’s general direction. “You get… confrontational sometimes. But that was a new level, Stevie.”

Stevie puffed a sigh. “I’m _sorry_. I kinda lost it, I know. You know what she did to me, right? Never gave her a piece of my mind.”

“Stevie… I don’t think now was the time or place.” Rhett gave her a fleeting shoulder rub before his hand dropped to his side. “I think we need to get into the spirit of things,” he addressed her and Link, “and relax, sip some warm beverages, sit by the fireplace, heck, roast some chestnuts. Y’know, the spirit.”

Link’s face perked up at Rhett’s words. “Or...we could play with a spirit board. I know there should be one in the library somewhere.”

“What?” Rhett spat.

“A spirit board?” Stevie’s lips curled around the words. “Yeah, why not? I haven’t touched a spirit board since my Craft phase.”

“Why _not?”_ Rhett’s brow creased skeptically. “Aside from the fact that it’s _stupid?_ ”

“Come on,” Stevie said to Rhett, “it’s harmless. Those things don’t channel squat.”

Jen entered the room in the midst of their debate. She carefully held a tray’s worth of steaming coffee mugs, some sugar packs, and creamer.

“Hey, Jen,” Link smiled.

“Hey,” she smiled back. “Nope, nope, nope, I’m not going anywhere near a Ouija board, guys. Sorry.” She laid down the tray of mugs on the coffee table and added condiments to one of the mugs. “I’m going to sip this coffee in the bath. A looong, hot soak is what I need. After all that drama.” She eyed Stevie.

Stevie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She tightly crossed her arms. “Well, let me get a head start digging around the library then.” With a burst of energy, she power-walked out of the room.

Jen stirred her coffee when she noticed Link looking despondently at the four other mugs (Rhett had just picked his up) as if the mugs were were filled with nothing.

“Hey,” she said.

Link looked at Jen.

Jen smiled reassuringly. “I think this week’ll warm up. Give it time.”

Link’s lips spread in a small smile. “I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

These damn kids. These damn, freaking kids. What were they doing lolly-gagging on _his_ mountain?

“My mountain,” the man husked a chuckle. He knew well it wasn’t technically his by any legal means. But it might as well have been his.

What was it about these fools going in twos in the middle of the night?

A screech whizzed past him, mere meters away. A gust of wind and snow in its wake. His senses triangulated the source… Northwest. Same direction as—yup. Those kids over there. A boy and a girl now. Jeez.

He cursed to himself. Time to hunt.

 

* * *

 

Link sat alone on the couch, still in the foyer area. Everyone else seemed to be in their own place right now. Link felt fine about that. Perfect, actually. Alone with his thoughts. He sipped his coffee loudly. He didn’t feel like getting in Stevie’s way in the library. Rhett went to get firewood from the shed in the back.

“Wanna come?” Rhett had eagerly asked him.

Link thought about it. They stood there, alone, after Stevie and Jen had left. He felt something in his chest: the warmth from a tight embrace against the cold. And green eyes.

“I’ll pass,” Link declined.

Disappointment colored Rhett’s face. “If you say so.”

The warmth in Link’s chest turned to cold.

Ten minutes later, and here he was, listening to his own sips echo off the walls. At least the thermostat was working now. Maybe he could’ve taken longer in the basement to adjust it. He knew it was working, but he couldn’t help but shiver. He felt cold, being alone.

He glanced at the empty fireplace. No firewood yet. Just black.

“ _Uh… Link_ ,” Jen’s voice called from upstairs. “ _There’s no hot water._ ”

Link chugged the rest of his coffee. (Gotta siphon that extra sugar. He needed it.) “Try getting in the tub to make it hot!” He cracked up to himself. He couldn't help it. Someone else much cooler and gold-hearted than he was going to make her happy some day.

An awkward silence. “ _Har har!_ ” Jen sang. “ _Still pretty cold. I’m a glacier now._ ”

Link sighed. Back to being the good host. But for Jen, he’d do anything without being asked.

“Well, come downstairs and we can look at the water breaker in the basement.”

 

* * *

 

“Did you hear _that_?” Candace’s head turned in different directions all around them like a security camera. The wind was picking up, and snow started to fall in fine flakes. But there was still nothing. It’d been like this the entire trip from the lodge and on their longer-than-they-thought foot-journey to the guest cabin. The distance seemed shorter last year… but now the threat of some bump in the woods kept Candace measuring every second with bated breath.

“I could’ve sworn I heard something this time, Chase,” she panicked.

“Look.” He took hold of Candace’s hand. “Whatever happens, _if_ anything happens, just hold my hand. Will that make you feel better?”

Candace sighed. “What would make me feel better is finding out what keeps shaking in the trees like a drunk deer.” But she didn’t let go of his hand; she squeezed it tight. “We’re almost there, right?”

“Yeah, I see it over this hill… Wanna take a closer look?” Chase pointed ahead of him. “There’s another telescope for your viewing pleasure.”

“No...no thanks.” Candace kept looking all around her, one more time. “You can take a gander if you want.”

They approached the harmless telescope. According to the nearby sign, it was for gazing at the wildlife, but most of them were hibernating now. Chase looked at Candace for a second: her eyes squinted at something in front of the telescope, something far away. The poor goober. It was hard to take her seriously, but he could sense something wasn’t right.

“You sure you don’t wanna look?” Chase almost laughed.

Candace quickly turned to him. “ _You_ look.”

Chase glanced at the sky and shrugged. “Okay. I’ll take a peek.”

He looked through the telescope. It was a more scenic landscape, something the developers probably thought when they put this telescope here. Otherwise, with the night and the snow, it almost blended in with the rest of the terrain they’d been seeing on their trek. “Nope. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.” He started to turn—

He saw eyes. Big. Bulging. Dead eyes. Right in his face.

Chase flinched, floundered away from the telescope. “Whoa,” he yelped.

“What, what?” Candace reached for him with one hand, still holding his hand with the other. “You saw something.” It wasn’t a question.

Chase caught himself catching his breath. “Yeah...it was. Y’know, now that I’m thinking about it. I think it was a deer.” _A deer with cataracts_ , he thought. Just keep telling yourself that, as Stevie would say.

Candace stared at him critically. Then looked out into the wildlife scenery. “Oh. I think I see it,” she said excitedly. “It’s so….oh.”

_No way…_ Chase craned his neck. Huh. There was a deer. And it was...very dead. “Oh.” The word dropped into his gut at the sight of the poor creature, but he was still relieved. “That’s a shame.”

Eventually they kept moving toward the cabin. They didn’t notice the deer being dragged across the snow into the shadows, a streak of red painting the white hill.

 

* * *

 

“I can't thank you enough,” Link admitted to Jen. They carefully made their way down the steep steps to the basement. “It’s so nice to see your face again. You and Rhett… you guys are like family to me.”

Jen smiled warmly. Link’s sentiments were a good distraction from the increasingly run-down vibe the stairwell bore from a few generations’ worth of existence. There were cracks in the walls deeper than the oldest face, and some steps had become warped while others remained icy sharp.

“Well, I'm happy to _be_ back,” Jen said, affectionately touching his back, “I'm always happy to see you, sillyhead.” She paused to think about what Link said. “And I’m sure Rhett feels the same.” She lingered on the thought, knowing what she knew about them, and wasn’t sure whether to say more. Jen looked at Link intently.

Link stared ahead of him with a strange look - like he’d just remembered something unpleasant in the briefest twitch in his face.

Jen pressed on. “Did you and Rhett make it back up the mountain okay?”

“Oh—” Link touched her arm. “Watch your step—jeez,” he uttered as he stumbled, clutching the wall for support. “Yeah, we did,” he said with a smile still in his voice and a curl to his cheeks. “And I know he feels the same…” His voice trailed off and followed the same emotion his eyes suddenly bore: a brief, happy escape from the present moment and into a memory Jen couldn’t see. Link tried to swallow back his smile, but the corners of his mouth remained contentedly curled.

Regardless, Jen was relieved. Something in her gut didn’t bode well for a moment, but she guessed it was nothing.

They reached the basement. Somehow, there still remained a rising shiver that crept up Jen’s spine. It started with the familiar arctic chill common of the lowest floor of a building (and the snow outside didn’t help either). The breaker cases and various heaters and coolant containers were nearly as dark and gray and unforgiving as the rest of the walls and junk in the room. There were metal lockers that bore scratches and peeling paint. Rafters and pipes and air ducts that snaked through them looked like one tar-burnt monstrosity in the basement darkness.

“Jeepers,” Jen remarked. The more she looked around, the more lost her eyes were in dark gray shadows. It nearly gave her a headache.

“Ruh roh,” Link quipped. “I know, it’s like Halloween all year down here. Now.” He wiggled his fingers, and his eyes darted around the basement. He pointed forward. “The water.”

It was a real team effort to fudge the controls. After Jen figured out what the dials meant and what the crank did, and Link gave instructions to her like a bomb diffuser expert, the basement roared with what Jen assumed was rushing hot water.

“Excellent!” Link exclaimed. “Up top!”

Their high-five and victorious laughter echoed most righteously. Jen’s cheeks actually hurt smiling. Link’s own smile took up half his face and only made Jen keep smiling. They had their moments sometimes.

“We did…” Jen’s smile slowly fell from her face. “...it.” She thought she heard some objects fall against the cement floor in the distance, somewhere beyond the hallways. A weird myriad of objects, some hard, some fragile, some that clattered. Then...

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._

It sounded like stomping. Or trudging. With heavy feet.

“Do you hear that?” Jen’s voice dropped to a mutter.

Link perked his ears and squinted all around him. “Hear what?”

“ _That_.” It kept thud, thud, thud, thudding. “That doesn’t sound like water. And it’s...oddly regular.”

Link took a step toward the corridor that led to more of the basement. “I don’t…” Link started to say. He kept stepping slowly forward. “There’s nothing regular I can hear,” he insisted. He turned to her. “C’mon. Let’s investigate.” The self-assured grin on his face glued Jen right where she stood.

“Noooo.” The poor girl looked around the room, reconfirming how freaking creepy it was and how creepy the rest of the basement most definitely was. She happened to see an aged baseball bat peeking from between two of the lockers. She hopped over to pick it up. “Didn’t know the Neals were into baseball,” Jen said, giving a good practice swing. “I thought you guys were a soccer family.”

“That was my dad’s.” Link smiled knowingly. “You can bring that with us if you want.”

_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._

Jen’s knuckles turned white around the baseball bat. “I just might.” _How could he not hear that?_

Link’s lips flattened into a sheepish line across his face as he rolled his eyes. “Naaah, c’mon.” He beckoned to her. “I’ll walk in front of you. It’s probably nothing, but that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you.” There was a hint of softness in his tone near the end of his statement.

Jen felt something melt in her chest. She returned the wooden bat to its crevice and followed Link into the dark corridor.

“Oh jeez.” Jen felt her breath grow thin. Instant regret.

The corridor felt like it was caving in with how low the ceiling was, and the adjacent room it led to may as well been a black hole. Nothing but shadowed outlines and perhaps a vague hope of light from a dingy window meters away.

“Let there be light!” Link pulled on a hanging light switch in front of him almost effortlessly. “See, Jen? Nothing but more junk.”

Jen had never been happier to see stacks of dusty cardboard boxes.

From behind those boxes lunged a tall figure in a hooded robe.

“WHAT THE CRAP?” Link screeched.

Jen immediately grabbed Link’s hand. And they freaking bolted.

She didn’t look long at the person, but their face was covered by the hood—like a monk’s—and they were, in fact, now being chased by this psycho monk guy. (“ _Why?!_ ” she heard herself yelp.) She could barely breathe. The stairs—crap, the stairs. They gained distance, but the stairs threatened to break Jen’s knees. They reached for the entrance door. Jen leapt past Link—she reached for the knob herself.

“What?!” she gasped. “It’s locked?!”

“ _BRAAAWWWWRRRRR!!!_ ” a guttural rumble echoed from behind them.

Jen kept hopelessly turning the knob and kept looking back and forth between the bottom of the stairs and an unsettlingly calmer Link. Like he was...solving a puzzle in front of him. A patch of sweat glimmered on his temple.

“Link!?” Jen could feel the corners of her mouth pull downward around his name.

The brunette just kept looking toward the foot of the stairs.

Then the hooded monk appeared.

Jen felt herself pale. She saw Link’s arm raise to hold her back.

The monk sprinted up the stairs.

Jen crumpled against the door and screamed.

“Oh my gosh, Jen—” The monk removed his hood. “—I did not mean to scare you that much, I’m so sorry, oh my gosh.”

Jen’s jaw dropped. She thrusted an index finger forward. “ _Rhett?_ ”

“The heck…” A bitter smile curled onto the end of Link’s statement. “I should’ve known it was you with that idiotic...roar? Who roars in a monk robe?”

Rhett shrugged and gestured at his robe. “This robe got us an A+ for that world history project about the Plague back in middle school. And monks are well-rounded individuals.”

“How’d you even get down here?” Link asked.

Jen’s own question-mark-filled brain asked the same question.

“Dude, it’s not that hard to shimmy through a basement window from outside. I thought I’d seen one of your old comics through the window, and sure enough, there were _boxes_ full of them! And when I heard _your_ voice in the distance, I knew I had to spook you.” He playfully jabbed at Link’s arm. “Since we’re playing with spirit boards tonight, apparently. Had to _spook_ it up. All spooky like.”

“Don’t ever say that word again,” Link deadpanned.

Jen was still reeling from the brief but horrible experience. She still stood frozen looking at Rhett like she was seeing a space alien speaking Russian.

“Jen.” Rhett caught her stare. He reached out to her. “I’m so sorry—”

“I—” She waved him away and hugged herself. “It’s okay.” She then turned to Link with an eclipse of the heart. “I swear, Link, if you were in on this—”

“I wasn’t!” Link raised his hands. “Not this time anyway.” He then turned to Rhett. “That was pretty good, though, almost had me, brotha.” He raised a fist to bump with Rhett.

Rhett sheepishly glanced at Jen, then Link, before fist-bumping his best friend.

Jen ran a hand down her face as she sighed. And for a split second, she understood Stevie’s attitude toward Rhett and Link. Just a split second. Her friends were just being manchildren right now, as per usual. But she knew they had hearts of gold. Right?

“I’m definitely gonna take a long bath, guys.”

 

* * *

 

_9:38 P.M. - The Guest Cabin_

 

“I’m coooold.” Candace kept rubbing her arms. She took a deep breath and watched a thin white cloud appear in front of her. She shouldn’t be complaining—they finally made it to the quaint little cabin a little while ago, after their walking trip made the hairs on her neck stand up indefinitely. But whatever. It was somehow more cold in here than it was outside.

And her phone had magically disappeared from her jacket pocket somewhere along the trip... As if this night couldn’t get any weirder. She kept rubbing her hands together. Maybe she’d forgotten it at the lodge and that was it. But she could’ve sworn she had slipped it in her jacket pocket. Or maybe her back pocket? Maybe that’s why it was gone now. God, it was cold.

“I’m freezing my _buns_ off, baaabe,” she called out to Chase, who was in another room. “And we both need them!”

“I know, I know…” Chase called from the cabin’s bedroom. He walked where the emergency lamp he’d found guided him. The comforter on the master bed looked like a cake of dust. No getting cozy under a blanket here. He had to light the fireplace. “Lemme find some...matches!” He took out a matchbox covered in a gray film from a drawer in the nightstand.

He rushed back into the living room. “No more freezing buns,” he smiled.

“Oh thank god.” Candace collapsed on the old clawfoot couch she was sitting on. “I don’t even care for ‘mood lighting’ anymore, I just wanna cuddle.”

Chase smiled. “Those are the hottest words you’ve said tonight.”

Candace laughed, adding more breathy clouds. “Light that fire already, and get your buns over here.” She patted the space next to her.

They got cozy. The fire picked up, and, along with their cuddling warmth, Candace felt a million times better. Screw her phone (at least for right now). This was all she needed—all they both needed.

“The simple things in life,” she sighed.

Chase nodded, readjusting his embrace. “Yeah. We’re cuddling on an antique couch in our rich friend’s guest cabin on his family estate’s mountain resort.”

“Shush.” Candace nuzzled his chest.

“Kidding... Ooo hey, there’s a shotgun over there.”

Candace lazily looked over in front of them. Next to the front window with the lacy curtains and interior shutters, a shotgun hung on the wall on some display hooks. It didn’t look as old as everything else in this cabin. Probably recently used...for hunting. Maybe.

“Could you use that?” Chase asked, intrigued.

“Probably...” Candace said slowly.

“Don’t hurt your neck looking at it, boo.”

Candace shook her head and rested it back on his chest. The fire crackled and danced with warmth. Chase had left the emergency lamp on, a harsh white orb of light next to the brighter, yellower fireplace. The scent of burning wood was soothing. She could feel body gradually lay limp against Chase. The two of them lay in silence and comfort. Their breathing was slow and relaxed, nearly in time with each other. _A getaway indeed_ , Candace thought. Her eyelids started to droop, then closed. The warm colors continued to dance behind her eyelids.

_CRAASsSHh!_

They both sat up to the shattering sound.

“Shit,” Candace gasped. “Is someone _here?_ ”

Chase looked toward the back of the cabin. “I’ll go and check.”

“No—”

“Candace, please,” he suddenly whispered. “You’ve spent enough time worrying tonight.” Chase eased himself from the couch, not without his hand being reluctantly released from Candace’s fingers.

“Just...don’t die, okay?” Candace whispered to him.

He slowly approached the small corridor. It was either in the bedroom or in the bathroom. A howling, chilling draft led Chase into the bathroom, a hole in the wall if he ever saw one. Pale blue triangles of glass shone on the wood floor. Chase looked at the thing that had crashed into their bathroom and felt a twinge of amusement, but soon replaced with confusion.

“Candace!” he called out. “It’s your phone!”

There was a pause. “ _...what?_ ”

He checked outside the window and saw nothing but the familiar dark trees and pallid snow. But no one in sight. At least no one he could see in the vicinity. _Now_ he was officially weirded out. “Yeah, someone just kinda...threw it in here?” He extracted the phone from the glass shards and brought it back into the living room.

“What. The actual hell.” Candace inspected the device. It was definitely her third iPhone she got from her parents that year, with her neon-colored cats ‘n’ pizza phone case. What freak would throw her phone through the back window…?

“That bitch,” Candace hissed.

“ _What?_ ” Chase tried to hold her hand. “Where are you going?!”

Candace yanked open the front door. Immediately the wind hit her face like a wall of ice, and goosebumps crawled up her bare arms. But she did not care one bit.

“HEY!” she screamed into the void. “YOU THINK THIS IS SOME KIND OF SICK JOKE, STEVIE NICKS? WELL GUESS WHAT? I DON’T FUCKING CARE! YOU’VE GOT NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN TO STALK YOUR FRIENDS THROUGH AN ENTIRE FOREST JUST TO _SCARE ME_? HAA! GROW THE FUCK UP! LOOK WHO’S LAUGH—”

Candace was snatched by the waist into the cabin, and the door was slammed shut.

“I WASN’T DONE!” Candace squirmed in Chase’s arms.

He spun her away from the door and gripped her by the shoulders. “You _need_ to calm down _,_ ” he spoke softly.

Candace glanced over Chase’s shoulder: the front door had its own window covered in frilly curtains she could’ve torn with her hands to get through the door again if Chase wasn’t in the way.

“—you’re not listening to me, Candace!”

“Wha—what do you want from me?” Candace whined. “It _had_ to be her! Who else could it be?”

“There could be a masked killer out there for all we know!” Chase let go of her and colorfully gestured at the door. “After you spent so long freaking out over some— _boogeyman_ following us, I would’ve thought you’d be more careful and not do something so—stupid!”

“Hey...” Candace’s shoulders fell. “That kind of hurt.”

Chase looked away. His brow creased; his lips flattened and twisted in conflict. “You could’ve put yourself in danger,” he murmured.

They stood there silently. Candace looked down at Chase’s nose, then at her bare feet.

When she looked back up, she saw a pair of monstrously thin arms crashing through the front door—arthritic clawfingers digging into Chase’s face and body, screaming, struggling, being jerked, pulled through the smashed window—and disappearing into the screeching darkness outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone following this fic: Thank you for your patience! Life, work, and my laptop's hard drive cable dying got in the way, and now this chapter's finally done. I'm gonna try and stick to a more consistent writing schedule and see this story to the end. Because there will be an end...


	4. The Spirit of Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhett and Link play with a spirit board. Candace has a shotgun. Things get heated.

_10:08 P.M. - The Lodge, Dining Room_

 

A single candle glowed on the table. Stevie ceremoniously laid the spirit board and planchette in front of the candle. The spirit board looked and felt authentic, from its yellowed parchment texture, to the engraved, black lettering and astrological designs, to the maple wood finish of the planchette. It definitely made Stevie want to return to the gothic section of her wardrobe.

“There you are,” she greeted Rhett and Link, entering the cave-like dining room. “Just in time. Ready to rock this séance?”

The two tall boys took their seats opposite of each other. Rhett gazed at Link in the warm candlelight: the flickering flame cast dancing shadows on his face like a kinetic Picasso painting. It made his jawline and nose look sharper, but his eyes were dark pits when the shadows passed over his brow. The shadows were brief but unsettling.

“You bet,” Link grinned. He smirked at Rhett. “ _You_ ready?”

Rhett sank into his chair. “As ready as a firm nonbeliever can be.” His eye landed on one of Link’s hands. “Do we have to hold hands?”

Link’s eyes disappeared under a skeptical, shadowed brow. “You’ve really never used one of these before,” he said in amazement.

“Because they’re _stupid_ ,” Rhett said.

“Nnno,” Stevie answered. “As self-appointed medium, I say the holding of hands is unnecessary. As long as all of us are touching the planchette, we should be safe and—” She looked at Rhett. “—be open to whatever happens.”

Rhett heaved a sigh. “I’ll be a good sport, I promise. It’s just… I literally would not be doing this if I wasn’t with you two.”

Link nodded. “Alright, alright.” He smiled; he looked at Stevie and pointed a thumb at Rhett. “See, Steve, this is why I like him. He’d do anything crazy with me.”

Rhett felt his face warm up, his eyes bulge.

Stevie cleared her throat. “ _Speaking_ of.” She placed a confident index finger on the wooden pointer. “Are we all ready?”

They nodded. Link’s Adam’s apple bounced up then down in a slow gulp. Rhett bit his lip.

They all touched the planchette.

“I call this séance officially begun,” Stevie announced to the table. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back in reverent silence.

Rhett blinked at her. Link slipped a chuckle under his breath.

“Is anyone there?” she asked to the ceiling.

More silence. Link cleared his throat. Stevie sat still. Rhett glared at the frozen planchette.

Then it jolted to life.

“Whoa,” Stevie uttered and opened wide her eyes at the thing.

It moved around in a jagged circle.

“I’m not doing anything, guys,” Stevie’s voice wavered.

“Me neither,” Rhett and Link said at the same time. They looked at each other, then back at the board. The planchette started to glide across the letters.

“I think it’s spelling something,” Link exclaimed.

“H...E…” Stevie muttered. “...L...P?”

“ _Help?_ ” Rhett said incredulously. “Come on, guys—”

“I swear, I’m not doing anything!” Stevie’s eyes were circular.

“Just—” Link interrupted with an authoritative hand. “Let’s see where this goes.”

“Link, I swear if you’re yanking our chain—”

“I’m not, you heathen.”

“OKAY,” Stevie blurted. “Let’s simmer down and see… O spirit…” She looked up at the ceiling, her brow anxiously creased. “Who are you? How can we help you?”

The planchette jolted again. “Oh _man_ ,” Link grinned.

“This can’t be…” Rhett’s voice trailed off.

“S...I...S…” Stevie spelled.

“No…” Rhett couldn’t believe it.

“...T...E...R—sister.” Stevie looked uneasily between Link and Rhett.

Rhett glowered at his friends; his blood boiled. “This is a _cruel_ joke. Absolutely cruel.”

“We’re _not_ doing anything, man, come on!” Link pled. “I’m just as... _spooked_ as you are.”

“I can _not_ believe this,” Rhett huffed.

Stevie’s finger trembled on the planchette. “I can stop this now if you guys want.”

“No—” Link objected.

Rhett couldn’t muster words. He stared blankly into the spirit board until the letters and numbers and stars and moon blurred into a warm gray blob

“—ett? Rhett?” Stevie repeated.

The dirty blonde shook his head. Against his better judgement, he said, “No… Keep going.”

Link and Stevie looked at each other, then back to Rhett. “You sure?” Stevie asked, her voice lowered.

“Do it before I change my mind.”

Stevie nodded slowly. “Okay…” She gazed back down at the spirit board. Her face looked paler somehow in the fiery orange light. She took a quick deep breath before saying, “...Christy? Is that you?”

The planchette didn’t move for a moment. Then, ever so slowly, their fingers moved with it.

“ _YES_ ,” they all read aloud.

Rhett tried to catch Link’s eye, but Link kept staring at the board in fear, as if he’d just stuck his hand in a deep tree hole. The taste of bitter spite reached the back of Rhett’s throat. “I’m sorry—having trouble over there with your _spirit board_? Ya still wanna keep going?”

Shadows danced on Link’s indecisive face. His blue eyes glimmered and met with Rhett’s. “Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

“Not at all.” Rhett puffed his chest, never breaking eye-contact with Link. “If this _really_ is the spirit of _my_ dead sister and _your_ dead girlfriend, maybe she can tell us how she died.”

“That’s a bit morbid,” Link said.

“Well, this is a freaking spirit board, what did you expect? Let’s take full advantage of it while you have it out for us, huh?” Rhett spat. “Stevie, _please_ continue.”

Stevie gulped. Her eyes darted all over the board. “Um, Christy...we’re so sorry. We miss you… How...how did you die?”

The planchette jerked and moved faster now. “Oh jeez,” Link uttered. “B...E...T...R—”

“ _Betrayed?_ ” Stevie practically screamed. “But it was an accident! Right? They just ran out and...disappeared!” Her face started to glisten with perspiration as she looked at both of them. The room suddenly felt ten degrees warmer.

Link and Rhett looked at each other with equal apprehension. Uncanny, horrific dread took a hold of his gut like a vise grip, and judging by Link’s face, his friend was probably feeling something similar.

“W-well, how can we help you?” Stevie struggled to continue.

The planchette moved wildly across the board. “L...I...B—the library?”

“Whoa wait—” Rhett gasped.

It shook violently and flew right off the table with a clatter on the floor.

“Holy shit,” Stevie cried. She put a hand over her heaving chest. “I’ve never seen it do that before!”

Link’s rose from his seat; his hands were balled into fists. His blue eyes glared menacingly at Stevie and Rhett. “I don’t wanna be in the same room with you two.”

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Rhett came back at him. He jumped out of his seat. “ _You’re_ the one who wanted to do this—”

“Oh, shut up you hypocrite, you played along _so_ well!”

“ _What?_ As if either of us know what happened to our sisters that night. _You_ could’ve easily rigged the thing, and poor Stevie here’s about to cry herself to sleep.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Stevie uttered.

A vein popped out in one of Link’s temples. “If you think being sick jerks is gonna help me get over this….” He got so mad he couldn’t finish his thought. He was shaking. “Screw you—” He started storming for the door.

“Link, no!” Stevie urged. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault!”

“I’m DONE,” Link shouted. “I don’t _need_ this right now—and I don’t need _you_.” He shoved Rhett aside with one hand and exited the dining room.

“Link!” Stevie called after him.

Rhett held her back. “Just wait. I’m gonna knock some sense into him.” He watched Link storm down the hall.

Stevie squeezed Rhett’s arm. “I’m going back to the library.”

Rhett did a double-take. “Seriously?”

“I might as well do something while you’re ‘knocking some sense’ into him.” She drew air quotes with her fingers. “Who knows? Maybe there are some answers in the library.”

Rhett glared at her. “Seriously, Stevie. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna talk to him like I said I would.” He looked back and saw Link disappear around the corner. “I’ll meet you there when I’m done.”

 

* * *

 

_10:12 P.M. - Blackwood Pines_

 

"CHASE!"

Candace ran. She ran barefoot while holding a lantern in one hand and a loaded shotgun in the other. If some _thing_ hadn’t just snatched her boyfriend through a glass door like a possessed child on Christmas morning, she would’ve thought running with a shotgun would be funnier.

She was met with a fork in her path. Long, safe-looking trail of snowy pass, or frozen-over sewage pipes across a creek?

Another screech—followed by another bloody-murder scream. She’d never heard him scream like that. Ever. And the sounds seemed closer to the frozen pipes.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod…” No time to think, just _save your boyfriend, ohmygod._

She jumped, avoided slipping and cracking her head one too many times, jumped, and leapt. Like a sadistic gameshow obstacle course that took place in the bowels of Canada. _Loser gets to have their boyfriend served like a shish kabob! Ahahaha you are going WAY too slow, Candace, come onnn!_

“CANDAAACE!!” She heard him, just below this cliff. “CANDACE HELLLLP!!”

She dropped the lantern. Knee down, shotgun out, eye through the crosshairs: She saw Chase shimmying underneath some bare branches. His clothes were torn, skin scratched and a little bruised. She tried to view what it was that took him, whatever horrid creature that possessed arms like charred tree bark and claws like a wicked witch. But Chase was jerked—pulled by the ankle so fast she tried to follow through the shotgun scope and aim past him—

She pulled the trigger.

“AAAAAHHHH CANDACE—” And Chase was pulled even further down the woods. His desperate fingers dug into the snow.

“Mother—” Candace cursed. She quickly peered at the horizon. There was no way she could run that fast to the other end of this hill… She gazed back down.

It was maybe six feet down at most, she figured. It couldn’t hurt. That much.

 

* * *

 

“LINK!” Rhett shouted down the hallway.

Link looked over his shoulder like a deer in headlights. He took a spurred step forward, before deciding not to even try outrunning Rhett’s longer legs. Rhett heard a hard “ _Tsk!”_ and a sigh so crisp he thought there was a newly opened soda can, but Link’s pent up frustration was literally so loud.

“What do _you_ want?” Link’s voice dripped with bitterness as he turned to face Rhett’s approaching figure.

“What’s your problem, huh?” He didn’t stop walking until he jabbed an accusing finger into Link’s chest, but Link’s face remained cool and cold, with eyes like slits. “It was _your_ messed up idea to play with a spirit board, and you expect me to believe you’re genuinely pissed at _us_ for going along with _your_ idea?”

“It _was_ messed up,” Link fumed through gritted teeth. “But I didn’t do anything. I refuse to believe that _thing_ was Christy.” Link’s face grew more shadowed with anger, the same trembling, balled-fisted anger from earlier. “How does she know?”

Rhett cocked a brow. “Stevie?”

“Stevie. She must’ve rigged the stupid board! How does she know about—”

“She doesn’t.”

Link’s mouth slowly opened - his bottom teeth looked like fangs in the dim light - then closed. “You’re lying,” he sighed incredulously.

“How do I know _you’re_ not lying!?” Rhett’s blood absolutely boiled. “And you’re so hellbent on nobody finding out about—” His voice cracked. He raised his hands in exasperation.

“—about us!”

His heart sank at the words. But at the same time, it set ablaze.

“About you—and me—and whatever the hell it was we were doing—!”

“Shut up. Shut UP!” Link turned to walk away.

“Well, GUESS WHAT?!” Rhett grabbed Link and turned him back around. “It’s too freaking late for that!” he screamed in Link’s face.

“I said SHUT UP!” Link shouted uselessly, trying to turn his head away.

“Our sisters are _dead_ because—” So much emotion threatened to make Rhett incoherent. His thoughts wanted to overflow out of him right now, like they’d been boiling in his brain for too long. “—you didn’t have the guts to stop fooling around! You’re a coward! You’re _selfish_ ! You were too afraid to admit to yourself or to Christy—or to ME—what you really wanted—whatever the hell _that_ was! And worse! Ohoho, _worst_ of all—you had me on a freaking _string_ ! And dammit, I hate that you still do! I’m wrapped around your little finger, and I’m sure you _love_ it! And I actually thought you felt anything for me! Or, hell, if I’m wrong— _PLEASE_ by _all_ means, correct me if I’m wrong, _Link_ —it’s only because you gave me mixed signals like the most fickle child on the planet! One minute you’re confessing undying devotion, and the next you’re pretending nothing ever happened and absolutely using my sister! I mean, crap, at least I _liked_ Jessie! _God_ , Link, what do you expect me to believe!? How am I supposed to trust—”

Link’s hands clasped around Rhett’s face as he kissed Rhett hard on the lips.

“No—” Rhett gasped between their mouths. But he tilted his head into the next kiss. And the next, and next... He tightened his grip around Link’s shoulders and pushed Link loudly against the wall _._

Link moaned—in pain or pleasure, Rhett couldn’t tell. But it stirred something in the pit of his stomach. Rhett heard himself whimper against Link’s insistent mouth. Link’s lips eagerly moved against Rhett's. It’d been _so long_ since he’d felt this _…_ It felt so wrong, and yet it felt so...

No. It still felt wrong.

Rhett’s fingers dug into Link’s hair, and, with great difficulty, he forced himself to pull away. Rhett stepped back abruptly. “What do you want?” he whispered.

Link’s eyes flew open. “I...I don’t know.” Link’s face contorted with tense indecision, eyes darting all over the room, everywhere except Rhett’s face. His conflicted emotions were as clear as a window on his face, but Link continued to struggle to verbalize them. “I want...all these bad...memories, these... _nightmares_ to go away. I want to start over.”

“What do you want from _me?_ ”

“I...I _don’t know_ …”

“That kiss sure felt like you knew.”

“It’s never that simple, Rhett.”

“Come on. Our friendship nearly caved because of this! I don’t want that to happen again!”

“I know. God, I _know_.” Link looked up at him. Rhett watched Link’s Adam apple rise and fall with another deep gulp. “I’ve wrecked you, Rhett... You... Jess...and Christy. I’m...I’m so...” Link buried his head in Rhett’s shoulder. “Oh, God, I wish I could tell you how—” the boy’s voice cracked. His hands came around Rhett’s back and pulled the taller boy back into a desperate embrace. “I wish I could tell you…”

Rhett slowly let his hands move against Link’s back as he embraced him back.

“I forgive you.”

Link held him tighter. He could tell he was trying not to cry; little tremors shook his body, and Rhett could feel Link squeeze him just a little every time.

“You do?” Link’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Always.”

“Rhett, I…” Link fell silent.

They stayed standing and embracing each other in silence for what felt like a little slice of eternity. And yet it didn’t feel like it was long enough.

Link broke the silence. “I wish we’d done this sooner.”

“Me too.”

“God… I need to clear my head and think. Alone. About...us. And all this. Is that okay?” Link pulled away, but left his hands on Rhett’s shoulders. “I’ll come to you later and we can talk. Really talk. I promise.”

Rhett didn’t want Link to let go. “Of course it’s okay.”

 

* * *

 

Her knees were still killing her from that drop. And her clothes had seen better days after that slide down that sharper, rockier side of the hill. Snow and dirt and maybe some blood(?) now stained everything on her body. And there was that wooden structure that looked like half of an abandoned shed? At the very bottom, even lower, of that hill? God, it just kept getting weirder and weirder.

But dammit, she was so close to saving Chase she could feel it.

“ _Chase, I’m coming!!!_ ” Candace kept running towards his screams.

She was approaching shells of what used to be wooden buildings—of what, she couldn’t tell immediately. Thin wood panels stuck out like broken ribs in the snow. She could barely make out the flurried form of Chase and whateverthehellitwas literally dragging him through the snow, heading for the one structure that seemed the most complete among the ruins. It looked like a station, or another lodge, with two giant wooden doors for a gate.

Somehow Chase was sucked into and behind those wooden doors like he’d become the gust of wind Candace felt just then.

“Aw crap, come _on_!” Candace forced herself to make longer strides. The shotgun was strapped across her body and clanked against her back.

“ _Candace, pleeea…_ ”

 

* * *

 

_10:29 P.M. - The Lodge Library_

 

Stevie gave the spirit board box a few extra shoves into the bookshelf. And a punch.

“Jesus,” she hissed.

“I’d rather not be called that, but okay.” Rhett entered the library.

“Normally, I’d clapback to that, but my anxiety is through the roof.” Stevie paced the oriental rug on the floor that lay in front of the bookcase. The candle from their earlier séance stood on the old maple desk by the fogged up window. The room was a dim, flickering, dark orange.

“I’ve been taking out each book, flipping through all the pages, trying to find _something_ that could make sense as a...clue? A hint, maybe? I'm halfway through this entire wall of books, and nothing makes sense. There's gotta be something that could explain how Christy and/or Jessie could’ve died.”

Rhett took the opportunity to walk around the library, carefully scanning everything. He shook his head. “I know you were into _The Craft_ or whatever,” he said while slowly patrolling the room, “but do you honestly think the board was actually communicating anything to us?” He raised his hands in defense. “I still stand by my skepticism, and frankly, some skepticism would do ya good right now.”

“How was Link, by the way?”

Rhett didn’t wanna back down, but he knew he wasn’t going to get to Stevie. He sighed. “He’s okay. We talked it out. He’s upstairs now taking a breather.”

“Is any of that code for something I should know about?”

“Stevie, please.”

“Sorry…” She eyed the bookcase again and let one of her hands hover over a row of books. She did notice there was a small series of leather-bound books related to Native American history and folklore. Her hand reached for one at random, an aged volume titled _Algic Researches_.

Nearly half the books in the row suddenly flew off the shelf.

“FUCK!” Stevie jumped out of the way.

Rhett gasped and moved away as well, but he immediately caught sight of a red button at the back of the shelf that was now exposed. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Stevie saw it, too. “Dude, this is it. That has to mean something.”

Rhett stepped up to it. It was a button alright. Like the kind that belonged in a glass case and launched a thousand nuclear missiles. But a button nonetheless.

“It means this.” He pressed the button.

A portion of the bookcase opened inward and revealed a secret extra room—what appeared to be an extra study room.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised the Neals would have secret rooms in one of their houses,” said Rhett.

“Probably into some freaky stuff if there’re other secret rooms in this place.”

Rhett opened his mouth, then decided against it. “No comment.”

The secret room was no bigger than a large walk-in closet, perhaps half a bedroom at most. It had a wooden tabletop attached to the wall and open cardboard boxes of more books that looked like they hadn’t been touched in generations. On the desk was a single photograph, and on the walls were other papers tacked to it, each with notations written in red pen.

Rhett took a hold of the photograph. It was a photo of Link in between Jessie and Christy—a photo he vaguely remembered taking with Jessie’s old digital camera at a camping site not far from Calgary. They were so happy. But both Link’s and Christy’s faces were scratched out with an X. Rhett looked closer: there was also something on the back...

Stevie squinted at the papers on the wall. There was one that stood out to her among the array of what looked like police report copies. (She assumed they were from the incident last year…) A paper with the Neal family letterhead read: 

 

> _Dear Dr. Pinston:_
> 
> _Thank you for your swift response. I am very glad to know the tribe still has a connection to these grounds. Our deepest apologies for the continued problems Blackwood Pines faces, what with graffiti, repeated trespassing, and the like._
> 
> _We will make a donation to your foundation as a token of our gratitude. It is the least we can do to start making amends and healing old wounds history has inflicted._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Hannah Elizabeth Neal_

 

But it was the handwritten note at the bottom that put Stevie on edge:

 

> _5/17/15 @ 9:13 P.M._  
>  _Saw that crazy guy again while on our routine grounds check_ _  
> _ Gonna start keeping a diary of this guy showing up
> 
> _What a creep._

 

“Um…you might want to see what's on this photo,” Rhett said slowly, the photograph in his hands. “Or not. I mean, I really hope this is all an elaborate prank, but—”

“Give me that.”

She glanced at the photo side. Then she turned it over. There was a note written on the back. The words were written sloppily in all caps, in what looked too thick to be red ink: 

 

> _I’VE WAITED SO LONG TO SEE HER_
> 
> _BEAUTIFUL SKIN_ _  
> _ _NOW I CAN FINALLY TOUCH IT_
> 
> _I WILL KILL ANYONE WHO GETS_
> 
> _IN MY WAY_

 

Rhett covered his mouth when he saw Stevie’s reaction.

“There is a freaking psycho creep roaming the mountain.” The photo slipped from her fingers and back onto the wooden table. “We have to tell Link and Jen. We have to let them know.”

“Stevie—”

“Do you not watch the news or remember anything the police told you?”

Rhett thought about it. His skepticism was waning, much to his chagrin, and was being replaced by pure fear in his gut despite his hesitant thoughts. “I do remember either Link’s mom or dad mentioning something about a trespasser.”

Stevie pointed at the letter tacked to the wall.

Rhett gulped. This couldn’t be happening. “I don’t know anymore.”

“I don’t care. If only for my peace of mind, I swear to God, we _have_ to go get Link and Jen and tell them. Like right now.”

 

* * *

 

_10:31 P.M. - North West Mines_

 

That’s what the faded sign read. It hung above Candace in what used to be red handpainted lettering on a hanging sign. The rusted chains were like crusted appendages of the brown wooden building. The vast emptiness in this space made Candace stand still: empty crates strewn about, empty benches that once held groups of people, empty bottles and oil lanterns broken and lying on the warped floor. Before she could doubt there were any mines, she saw the broken glass make a trail to a staircase leading into the ground. Right above where the stairs descended was another faded sign affixed to the wall that read _Elevator_ with a bold arrow pointing to her right.

“ _Candaaa…_ ” Chase’s voice echoed in the distance below.

Candace removed the shotgun, let the lantern hang from her other arm, and got her weapon ready. (She was never going to bitch about another hunting trip with her gun-happy stepfather ever again.) Fingers gripped around the shotgun, she stepped down the staircase.

She was hit with an oppressively stuffy air that eventually racked her lungs. “Chaaaase!” she shouted between coughs. It was either coal or mold, an overwhelming pungent moisture that was still piercing with the winter cold. She saw another sign that read _DANGEROUS DO NOT ENTER_ above the entrance for a tunnel. She almost didn’t see the tracks meant for mining carts that probably haven’t rolled in decades, even though the lamps hanging from the low clearing looked like they were recently installed.

“NNnNnNO!!” A bang of metal shattered through the airwaves.

She bulleted down that tunnel.

At the end of her tunnel vision was a rickety old metal elevator in the middle of another mining area, and lying in that elevator car was a bruised and battered Chase.

“Oh my God…” Candace knelt down from a safe distance.

For a moment, she couldn’t tell if he was still alive, but his head twitched and moved toward Candace.

“Chase!” Candace screamed. “ _Chase_ , oh my God. _What happened?_ ”

Chase tried to speak, a feeble groan escaping his mouth. There was a bright magenta splotch that covered and closed his right eye. He reached for Candace, but he struggled to sit up, and hit his head back on the metal elevator.

“I’ll help you…” Candace stretched out her hand.

The elevator jerked—then plummeted down the shaft right before her eyes.

 

* * *

 

Rhett and Stevie power-walked out of the library. They made their way toward the main staircase. Rhett glanced at the fireplace area and saw the wood he’d gotten earlier lying next to the stone mantle like discarded junk.

“Where did you say Link went after your sweet-talk?”

“To his room, I’m assuming.”

“Uh huh. But you know what they say about assuming, right?”

Rhett rolled his eyes. “I’m not his keeper, Stevie. This is literally _his_ house, he can do whatever—”

“AAAAAHHHH!”

The large wooden doors to the kitchen rumbled and shook as if something large was thrown against. And that scream was too deep to be Jen’s.

“LINK!” Stevie leapt to the door before Rhett could, in a rare gesture of fear-induced compassion. Rhett’s own shock kept him frozen where he stood. He watched as she shoved open the door and peered in.

Link’s tortured screaming continued from somewhere deeper in the kitchen. “AAAHHHH GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

“Link, where are—” Stevie was yanked inside, and the door flew shut.

“STEVIE!!” Rhett cursed himself for standing still for too long - his legs did _not_ want to move - but he ran to the door and tried opening it. They magically locked shut. He could hear both of them screaming, struggling. Their screams were cut short like the wind was knocked out of them and replaced with terse groans dying into silence. Rhett had no choice - he had to knock this door down.

“I’m gonna—” He kicked the door once. (Ow.) “—COME GET YOU GUYS!” He kicked with his life.

The door finally gave and swung open too fast for Rhett to catch himself - he face-planted the floor.

“Owww... Link?”

He pushed himself off the ground. The kitchen was dark, save for the faint light from outside. He could make out outlines of the counter and Stevie lying slumped by the counter. But no Link. Rhett squinted harder and put one foot down on the floor.

“Oh God… Link? Link…” He sounded like a wounded animal. “Link, where are you?”

He got on his two feet and became face to face with a skeleton mask draped with thin, jet black hair to the chin. A gloved fist flew into Rhett’s face, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you again for reading and keeping up with this little labor of love! I've already started the next chapter, so this train's gonna keep on rollin'...


	5. A Little Experiment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: At the expense of revealing some major plot spoilers, I HIGHLY advise you watch a let’s-play or read a full summary of Until Dawn before reading this chapter, if you are NOT familiar with the game, in order to avoid any unnecessary heartbreak.
> 
> HOWEVER, if you’re in for the ride and want a real scare (or are already familiar with the game’s events) then read on...

_June 2014, 5:17 A.M. -  Fish Creek Park_

  


Rhett’s back started to hurt. The hill was getting steep. His legs were finally protesting, and his backpack felt like a cinderblock, even though he knew he only packed one novel today.

“Come on, we’re almost there.” Link kept trucking as if he were stepping up a staircase of clouds. His small backpack was full of Clearly Canadian bottles and (if Rhett remembered correctly) a doobie or two. They both also packed a spare change of clothes; the river would be so beautiful in the sunlight and oh so crisp against their skin.

The sky was a dull periwinkle. Not quite night, but not quite day. He didn’t know how they weren’t getting caught this very instant for being on park grounds this early. It was Link’s idea. It was always Link’s idea; Rhett would’ve never done this alone. And frankly, Rhett wouldn’t have it any other way.

Their hiking trail was lined with towering trees on both sides, making Rhett feel secluded from the rest of the world. It was just him, Link, and soon the sunrise.

“Seriously, my knees are linguine right now.”

“Gah—come on, McLaughlin, we are _so_ close.” Link leapt to where Rhett was and grabbed his hand. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride if I have to.” He held his hand firmly, but not too tight. His hand was warm. A little damp with perspiration, but not moist. It felt like a hug.

Rhett smiled. His heart kicked up its beat. It was like a second wind, but only in his chest. It was strangely pleasant. He felt the same warmth suddenly rise to his cheeks.

They held hands all the way to the top of the hill. The trees lessened and parted from the path. The river was in clear view now.

“Wow,” Rhett sighed.

The day was on the cusp of breaking. It was a bold cobalt now, with a stain of orange along the horizon. The river water flowed like a billowing purple blanket across the grass below.

“Yeah,” Link said in a hushed tone. His fingers slowly loosened their grip and eventually let go.

Rhett looked at his friend, who was now making himself comfortable on the ground next to him. Link set down his bag and sat with his long legs stretched out before him. The dark-haired boy looked up and patted the empty patch of grass right next to him.

“Best seat in the house,” he beamed.

Rhett couldn’t say no to him. It was something he’d been struggling to do lately. But, it didn’t bother him. In fact, he relished it.

They sat in wordless awe. Rhett watched the colors of the sky change and grow.

“This is great,” Rhett smiled.

“Told ya it was a good idea.”

Rhett leaned back on his palms and continued to take in the colors of the sky. “I’m just glad I was able to do this with you.”

Link was silent for a moment. They sat close enough next to each other that Link lightly touched Rhett’s shoulder with his dark hair. “Yeah, me too,” he said softly.

They kept watching the sky. Rhett looked over to Link every other moment and caught him looking and rummaging in his backpack. He took out a couple of small Clearly Canadians and popped them open. They toasted their bottles. “To us, the sky, and 5 AM adventures,” Link said.

Rhett never wanted this dawn to end. And judging by how comfy Link’s head seemed on Rhett’s shoulder whenever it rested there, neither of them planned on moving from this spot for at least another century.

“It’s gonna suck when school starts,” Link said out of the blue. “You think we’ll still be able to go on adventures?”

Rhett took a thoughtful swig of his Country Raspberry. “We better. In moderation, I guess.”

“Screw that, let’s drive to Portland.”

“Dude,” Rhett laughed. “Do I have to be the reasonable adult in this relationship?”

“ _Excuse_ me, Mr. Cocky.”

“Well, do I?” Rhett kept laughing.

“Yeahh…” Link then took Rhett’s hand again, this time lacing their fingers together. He raised up their hands between them. Link smiled. “Is the sky blue?”

Rhett grinned. He looked back at the sky, and as he did so Link lowered their hands and let go of their interlaced grip, leaving their hands touching on the dewy grass. The sky wasn’t blue yet.

It wasn’t until the sky was half indigo and half tangerine that Rhett caught Link taking out (he knew it would appear at some point) a lighter and a small white joint. It was more Link’s thing, but Rhett would indulge with him every now and then. Link stuck the thing between his lips and jutted his jaw out to catch the lighter’s flame. The rising sun made Link’s bare jaw more prominent in the warmer and brighter daylight. (He was starting to grow some stubble; Rhett knew he wanted to have some facial hair after they graduated. But Rhett would miss the sharp line of his jaw if he decided to grow a beard.) Link took a hit while his eyes remained on the breaking dawn.

“Hey.” Rhett made a gesture with an invisible joint between his index and thumb. “Mind if I..?”

Link looked at Rhett, the joint between his index and middle finger like a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, never letting go of Rhett’s gaze. He was mulling over something.

Link beckoned Rhett. “Come here,” he whispered quickly, some smoke seeping through his lips. “I wanna try something.”

He took Rhett’s face, his palm against his warm cheek, and pressed his lips against Rhett’s open mouth. Rhett closed his eyes. He felt Link’s smoky exhale invade his mouth and, with a slow, deep breath, fill his thumping chest. Link’s hand was now cool; his lips, ever soft. Rhett then exhaled—but he held onto Link’s face with a trembling hand. It felt right.

He kissed him in a cloud of smoke. Tentative and still, at first. Then their lips both moved into tender, tongueless kisses. They kept kissing until they could feel the sun beaming soft but bright heat against their skin.

“Oh,” Link murmured.

“I’m sorry,” Rhett hurried to say.

“I didn’t realize…”

“What?” Rhett’s hand found itself on top of Link’s.

Link kept looking at Rhett as if _he_ were the sunrise. With the same wonder and admiration only deserved for the sun’s colorful refractions along the curve of the earth. And yet, Link looked at Rhett with that same sparkle in his eyes. It thrilled and confused Rhett.

“I didn’t realize I’d like that as much as I did.”

 

* * *

 

_December 2015, 12:41 A.M. -  The Lodge_

  


Rhett’s jaw hurt. The pain intensified the more awake he became. The rest of his head ached like a prolonged, painful music note only Rhett could hear. The only thing that somehow cooled and worsened the pain with its cold and unforgivingly flat surface was the floor he laid on. _What a nice dream though_ , he thought. He must have been knocked out for a while. It was the second time his brain reminded him he and Link did that.

That’s right. Link. And Stevie.

He tried to scramble off the floor. The room tilted and threatened to flip over as he got to his feet. He was in the kitchen, and Link and Stevie _were_ in the kitchen - that much he knew. He groped around the counter and tried to find a light switch. Finally, the only light he could turn on was for the overhead counter lamp, and humble yellow-green lighting emanated from the hanging, green glass fixture.

He saw red. A big, red splotch across the wooden doors leading from the kitchen to outside. It was smeared downward, and it looked like it continued beyond the doors.

And the only thing left of Stevie was her beanie cap on the floor, also sprinkled in a bright red.

Rhett suddenly remembered that skull mask. He shuddered. He wanted to punch that mask right back. He cricked his jaw before marching toward the wooden doors.

“Stevie!” he shouted at the howling wind that greeted him. “ _Link!_ ”

 

* * *

 

 

It was so dark in the mines. She’d dropped her lantern out of shock, and the subsequent darkness nearly engulfed her.

But Candace could still see the shadow in the moonlight above, at the top of the elevator shaft.

Without thinking, Candace aimed at the figure, centered the crosshairs, and _BAM!_

It shot a blank.

“Dammit!” Candace tested the trigger—her gun was then quickly discarded. And the figure disappeared as fast as she saw it. It looked vaguely like a person, but she couldn’t say for sure.

She looked back at the elevator—now a gaping black hole into deeper levels of this network of mines she didn’t realize existed.

Somewhere down there was Chase’s...no, Chase. Chase was down there. He had to be.

Candace kept staring. Her chest tightened, her breaths shortened. He had to be down there—and she had to get him. She took a step back from the chasm.

Then she froze.

An animalistic shriek pierced through her ears. It was behind her.

 

* * *

  

Rhett saw more red streaks in the snow. He followed them all the way to the shed, a practically miniature lodge with too much power equipment for the Neals’ own good... And knowing that only made Rhett’s stomach tie a tighter knot in his gut.

As if the trail of (alleged) blood wasn’t enough, Rhett gasped and recoiled at the sight that greeted him around the corner where the trail ended.

It was a severed pig’s head stuck on a tall stick in the ground. Tacked on its forehead was a soiled piece of paper that read: _WELCOME BACK._

“What the elf…?” Rhett heard himself utter. There was indeed a psycho afoot.

“Rhett!” he heard Stevie shout from inside the shed. “ _Rhett! Is that you?_ ”

Rhett shuddered away from the pig’s head and quickly entered the shed. “Stevie! I’m comin’!” It was as dark as a batcave in there. He peered around to try and find a light source; he settled with a flashlight he found in a tool drawer. He turned it on, expecting the skull-masked madman to strike again, but nothing happened. Only hanging chains and old woodshop equipment glared against the flashlight beam.

“Rhett!” another voice cried.

He shone the flashlight and kept walking around frantically in what felt like useless circles around the shed. “Link!? Stevie, is Link with you!?”

“YES!” they both shouted.

“Oh my God, man.” Link’s breathing started to quicken and grow louder. “Get us _out of here!_ What the hell is going on?”

Their voices were coming from the back, somewhere Rhett had never been. He entered another work area he’d never bothered to peek into before, and first saw dim figures in the distance behind a chain-link fence wall with a side door leading to yet another dim area. Before he could shine the flashlight on it, even brighter bulbs flipped on and blinded Rhett for a second.

“ _Hello, Rhett._ ” A distorted, detached voice echoed from some ancient overhead speakers Rhett didn’t notice were there. “ _Thank you for joining us today._ ”

Rhett looked up - now terrified - at the sight of Stevie and Link behind the fence wall. They were tied by their wrists against a large wooden board. Both Stevie and Link immediately started calling for Rhett imploringly. He spotted the side door and leapt to it - but the knob wouldn’t budge.

“ _No need to pick up your friends just yet,_ ” the deep, ominous, vocoderized voice continued. “ _We needed one more participant for our little...experiment. And you came just in time._ ”

A machine engine roared to life, and a giant, horizontal circular saw started to spin at full speed, not more than five yards away in front of Stevie and Link.

“What!?” Stevie squirmed.

“Oh, what the crap??” Link flinched away from the blade. “Let us go, you freak!!”

The voice continued. “ _Rhett: you will find a lever situated in front of you._ ”

There was, in fact, a lever at Rhett’s waist level, which was attached to the fence wall and (he assumed) was connected to the saw machine. On either side of the lever were photo-copies of Stevie’s and Link’s Facebook profile pictures ( _Beyond creepy_ , Rhett thought) taped to either side, which matched where they both were tied to the wall now. Stevie, to his left. Link, to his right.

“ _All you have to do is decide who you want to save. Which subject will live? And which will die? It’s all up to you. Only then can you reunite with your friends. Simple, right? There are no wrong answers._ ”  


 

* * *

 

_1:05 A.M. -  North West Mines_

 

Somehow, Candace sat more still behind this wooden panel than she ever thought she could. Not a twitch or even a breath. She would not move a millimeter.

And even after what felt like way too long to sit still, she didn’t _want_ to move.

Because whatever demonic creature that was making those noises from behind the panel was _not_ going to get her tonight.

Her back was against the panel—a dumb move, but it had been too late to turn around. She sat long enough to feel her phone vibrate and die in her pocket. (Damn battery couldn’t hold a charge after only half a year.) And when it did, Candace felt the warmth of her body drain into cold dread, in fear of being heard by the thing behind the panel.

There was clicking, almost purring, that sounded guttural but clattery. Then a shriek—like a woman’s shrill mixed with birds of prey and an uncanniness that she couldn’t shake off. It echoed and shot through the air like whipcrack. It went on like that for what was probably a few minutes, but what felt like the longest few minutes of her life.

She was pretty sure it was gone by now, but she remained seated on the dry dirt. Her eyes were still positioned on the dim wall in front of her: it looked like a makeshift work table built into the wall. So much wood found around these...woods. There was a something that looked like a gas mask  hanging above the desk, and on the desk was another wooden object along with (from where she sat) what looked like an old, thick photo album, almost the size of a dictionary

_If curiosity’s gonna kill me, then crap, I’d rather that_ , Candace thought.

She got up, not before her lower back and knees complained from being seated still for so long. But she got up and stepped to the work table.

The wooden object was a whittled little sculpture of a hawk’s head, with wings sprouting from its temples. It reminded her of animal spirits’ likenesses carved into the totem poles she’d occasionally see around the country.

There were papers, soiled and new alike, scattered across the table. The hardbound book sat on top of all the papers. The thick volume had old fabric covering that frayed at the corners. Candace gingerly opened it with tweaser-fingers.

It was a scrapbook. ( _Close enough_ , she thought.) The first page greeted her with a portrait of a large number of men, proudly standing as if for a class picture. Candace counted: there were 30 of them. They were hardy men, some more jaded-looking than others, while some looked proud and ready for work. Her grandpa could’ve been one of these men, Candace mused. She saw a yellowed newspaper cut-out below the photograph: an excerpt about the then-newly opened North West Mines. The next handful of pages were filled with individual men’s portraits, photos of the men at work, and leftover letters from a “Larnold” to an “Angel” in a gorgeous calligraphy that Candace couldn’t even attempt.

It was around the middle of the scrapbook where Candace began to suspect something amiss.

She saw another newspaper clipping from the same inaugural year; it bore a bold headline: “SURVIVORS”. Below it was a fuzzy photograph of a group of miners—12 to be exact, Candace noticed. There’d apparently been an accident—a cave-in of the main tunnel—trapping the men in the mines for days, almost months. She noticed the article said, “ _All twelve miners of the North West Mining team are in stable condition and under routine post-trauma evaluation at Blackwood Sanitorium. Townsfolk are relieved to know the miners were met with no harm._ ”

“But what about the other 18...?” Candace whispered to herself. She flipped through pages to read more about the accident, but there was nothing more definitive. She skimmed past a series of cut-outs stamped with the seal of _Blackwood Sanitorium_ until she saw a page with a grid of small photographs.

She threw the book back onto table.

“Jesus hot sauce on a stick,” she hissed.

The photos showed the twelve surviving miners, but their faces were greatly...distorted. Their features were pulled and twisted unnaturally to make way for the long, protruding teeth that they all had in common. And their eyes were...from what she could make of them, they were glazed, cloudy. Dead. The men still looked vaguely human, but they were all clearly sick with something.

“If you wanna git out of here alive,” a voice boomed behind Candace, “I suggest you git the hell out of my space, little missy.”

 

* * *

 

Rhett shook his head, brow furrowed. He clawed the fence wall and shook it. “No! You can’t make me choose!” he shouted at the ceiling.

“YOU CAN’T LET ME _DIE_ , YOU GOTTA GET US OUT OF HERE,” Stevie yelled in a single, desperate breath.

“Rhett… Oh, come on,” Link moaned. “We’ve been through so much! Don’t let this guy fool you!”

But Rhett couldn’t do anything. It certainly felt that way. All he had was the lever. But he didn’t know which direction meant what - did he pull the lever toward the person he wanted to _save_ or kill? _Holy crap, why am I even thinking about this, this can’t be happening—_

“—this can’t be happening, how can this be happening!?” Stevie cried. She tried to pull on her chains, but they looked so tightly wound around her wrists, it looked painful trying to let loose from them.

“Rhett!” Link craned his neck at him. “Think about this for a second, bo! You’re reasonable!”

Huh. Bo. Rhett hadn’t heard that nickname in a while.

The choice was simple. And Rhett felt incredibly horrible that it really was a simple decision. Because he loved them both. They were both his best friends, both important to him in different ways.

He eyed the knob of the side door one more time.

“ _Don’t even think about trying that door again, Rhett. I know what you’re thinking. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way... Now. Decide._ ”

Damn his anxiety keeping him frozen when he didn’t want to be. His hand hovered, trembling, over the lever.

“Get us out of here!!” yelled Stevie.

“Rhett, _please!_ ” cried Link.

Rhett’s eyes darted between their photos. He gripped the lever. “I’m sorry, Stevie…”

He pulled the lever toward Link’s photo.

The spinning saw lurched forward on what sounded like a metal track that needed lubricant. And the spinning, spinning saw began to make a turn like a metal hurricane...

...toward Link.

“ _Interesting. You decided to save Stevie._ ”

“WHAT!?” Link yelled.

“ _Very well then. Thus ends our experiment, folks. You’ll be able to reunite with your friends momentarily._ ”

“No,” Rhett gasped. “Nonononono, I didn’t mean that. That’s not what I meant!” He tried to turn the lever the other way, but the saw was set in its track.

“Rhett, what are you doing??” Stevie screamed, her eyes closed shut.

“PLEASE!” Link cried. “I know I screwed up and everything, but—!” The saw came closer and closer. “Rhett! PLEASE!”

“I didn’t mean to do that, I swear! LINK, I swear!” Why couldn’t he just _move_ and not stand there stupidly behind the fence? Why couldn’t he just open the door anyway? It was moving so fast, and Rhett felt so slow.

“I don’t want it to end like this! BO—”  


* * *

 

_June 2014, 6:11 A.M. -  Fish Creek Park_

  


“Bo?” Rhett asked with a skeptical grin.

“Yeah. It’s like bro, but without sounding so...douchey.”

Link swished around in the river water, now warmer after standing in it for a while. His hand subconsciously rubbed the base of his neck, which was peppered with bright purple little bruises. The rest of his bare chest glistened with beads of river water.

Rhett grinned. “Kinda makes you sound like a country bumpkin, don’t you think?”

“My uncle from North Carolina calls his peeps that, that’s why. Bo’s are guys that are friends, but... _closer_ I guess.”

“Closer…” Rhett said more to himself than to Link. “Sounds about right.” Rhett fished for Link’s hand under the water.

“Uh uh,” Link laughed and splashed water at Rhett. “Not without a fight this time!”

“Oho, you asked for it— _bo_.”

The two of them kept horsing around in the water. Like they were kids again in the summertime.

 

* * *

 

_December 2015, 1:12 A.M. -  The Shed_

  


“What is HAPPENING, make it stop!!” Stevie kept screaming. She felt liquid being splattered on her. There was so much screaming.

Rhett heard himself shout, “ _Don’t look at Link, Stevie!_ _DON’T!”_

“But I wanna know if he’s okay, I wanna _know—_!” Her speech devolved into incoherent vowels, and she continued to thrash against the wooden board.

Then the saw stopped moving. The side door finally flew open by itself. There was no more voice.

Rhett bolted through the side door, over to where Stevie was, and somehow eventually undid her chains - all while trying not to look at Link. And failing.

Or rather...what used to be Link.

God, he couldn’t linger on that thought.

“We have to get out of here, we have to get out of here…” Rhett mumbled the mantra. He had one arm around Stevie’s shoulders. “Don’t look at him, we - we have to get out of—”

“NO!!” Stevie cried. She’d definitely seen Link. Rhett quickly put a hand over her eyes.

They both limped out of the shed, even though neither of them had trouble walking. They both plopped themselves on the snow right outside the shed’s doors, next to the pig’s head. They shivered and huddled, but not from the cold.

“We can’t stay here, the psycho’s gonna come back for us...” Stevie briefly noticed all the red splattered all over the left side of her body; she hadn’t been soaked in red like that since last year’s prom. And even then, it was just some fruit punch... “Shit, we can’t stay here like this! What about Jen? And Candace and Chase? We need to call the police and… Rhett? Rhett, talk to me.”

“Candace and Chase are safe in the guest cabin. Jen probably hasn’t stepped out of that bathtub,” he said almost monotonously.

Rhett’s head was bent down, nestled behind his crossed arms that rested on top of his knees.

“Rhett?” Stevie spoke more softly. She caught her breath. “We should still try and get everyone back together before we try contacting the police.”

“What does it even matter?” he blurted. His voice, a shaky, teetering tone on the verge of losing it. “We can’t get _everyone_ back together. This can’t be happening. He was _right_ there. Right in front of me. You saw him, Stevie. I didn’t wanna kill him. I didn’t want _anyone_ to die. But now he’s gone - Link is—”

Stevie wrapped an arm around a trembling, inconsolable Rhett. His sleeves muffled his sobs. He felt his absorbed tears become cold against his skin.

“Link—!” The name came out of Rhett, and he felt a stabbing pain through his chest. “I didn’t get to tell him...I didn’t...” The words were too much, too painful when he couldn’t say them to Link. His sobs racked his lungs as he continued to cry into his sleeves.

  
Stevie didn’t understand at first. Then after a moment, she laid a palm on his back. “I think he knew.”


	6. La Vendetta

 

_ 1:32 A.M. - The Lodge, Master Bathroom _

  
  


Tonight’s bath was a Mozart bath. Jen tapped the play button on her phone screen and let her earbuds take her to the opera.

> _ “La vendetta, oh, la vendetta! _ _   
>  _ _ È un piacer serbato ai saggi.” _

There was something about how Mozart made the music notes dance in catchy but fleeting melodies that delighted Jen. She tapped her submerged feet, making the bubbles dance with the music.

There were some old (but still fragrant) woodwick candles that were sitting by the sink, so she’d lit those and placed them on the edge of the tub before drawing the bath. The whole room smelled like eucalyptus and sandalwood. She breathed in deeply through her nostrils. She closed her eyes. Pure heaven.

Before that—after she and Link finally got the hot water working and she let herself be scared shitless by Rhett—she’d been listening to some of Beethoven’s violin concerto while she unpacked in her selected room, sipped the rest of her coffee and got distracted catching up on one of the books she brought (a guilty-pleasure story penned by Rainbow Rowell), and finally got her toiletries in order before heading to the giant bathtub.

> _ “L'obliar l'onte e gli oltraggi _ _   
>  _ _ è bassezza, è ognor viltà.” _

Now, the music put a contented smile on Jen’s face. She tilted her head back against the edge of the bath and sank in some more. A nice, long bath was a good choice. Jen could’ve high-fived herself. She let her eyes close and stay closed. She was in her own world now.

About halfway through the aria she was listening to, Jen felt a gust of wind brush against her cheek, and the pungent smell of smoke replaced the eucalyptus aroma.

Someone had blown out the candles.

Jen’s eyes fluttered open. “Hello?” She yanked off her earbuds.

The candlelight was replaced with the stark moonlight peeking through the blinds, casting bars of shadow across the corners of the now dark bathroom.

She sat up in the bathtub. “Guys?”

The candles’ smoke trails continued to burn. The door was open just a crack. Jen went to get up from the tub to get herself a towel (and quickly shut the door) when she realized that her change of clothes was missing from her bag.

“Oh. Wow, guys,” she uttered to herself. “Not creepy at all.”

She fastened the towel to herself and gave the bathroom one last sweep with her eyes. Not even her socks were there. “Should’ve taken the bag, too, while you were at it,” she said, again to no one. She could just go back to her room and get a spare outfit...but whoever’s doing this really lame prank needed to be faced first.

Jen glanced at her phone; she’d come back for it. This wouldn’t take long. With wet feet she padded across the bathroom to the door.

“Hey, guys? I know we’re not, like, actual adults yet,” she called out as she stepped into the hallway, “but this is probably the oldest, childish prank in the...”

There were black balloons tied to little party weights on the floor, the black orbs floating at the corners of the different landings on the main stairwell. And next to every other balloon was a glowing yellow candle, each old and melted down by hours of burning. Each black balloon had white painted arrows on them pointing toward somewhere downstairs.

“...guys?” Jen’s voice echoed in the lodge.

 

* * *

 

_ 1:43 A.M. - North West Mines _

  
  


Candace’s hands flew up. “Don’t kill me.” 

“About-face, missy.”

Candace could feel her heart drum against her chest. She let her feet drag against the ground as she turned around.

Her hands slightly lowered, but she still kept them up since the man in front of her held what looked like a sleek super-soaker attached to a gas tank, or something out of a  _ Ghostbusters _ movie. But his hat.  _ Who wears a cowboy hat in Canada? _ His face was covered with a thick, dark scarf and a pair of gray goggles, until he lowered the scarf from his mouth.

Now Candace couldn’t decide which was more ridiculous: his cowboy hat, or his now exposed horseshoe moustache and goatee.

They stuck out even more since he didn’t bother to take off his gray goggles, which looked so old they were matte with some dust-like powder. But without the headgear, weird weaponry, and bad facial hair, Candace would’ve mistaken him for a roadside beggar with a preference for camouflage clothes.

“Are you a cowboy?” Candace said with no regard to what came out of her face hole.

The cowboy-Ghostbuster-guy left a blink’s worth of silence between them, but Candace couldn’t tell what (if any) emotion was brewing behind those bug-eyed goggles.

“I’m a  _ survivalizer _ ,” he finally answered. He then snirked. “And the guy who’s gonna save your hiney if you decide to move anytime soon.” He adjusted his grip on his gun; he noticed Candace staring at it. “Ya never seen a flamethrower before, missy?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, OH,” he mocked. He put the gun part into a holster on his belt. “You’re just another helpless kid runnin’ around this mountain. Invited by that Neal kid, I’m assumin?”

Candace took a step toward the exit—a sad, little space between this wooden panel and a natural wall of the mountain. “Yeah…” She squinted at him, still weirded out. But she felt like she could trust him enough to divulge. “My...boyfriend got taken by some… giant...spider with hands or something. I don’t know. It was somewhere down in the mines. And...then he was taken down the elevator shaft.”

“Oh...well, that’s not good.” He paced a few steps, placing a thoughtful hand on the scrapbook. “I think I saw that little scene. This mine’s too old for its own good...” His horseshoe moustache spread into an unsettling smile. “You’re not as good with a shotgun as you think you are.”

“What are you...?” How would he know that? She tried to remember the scene. The elevator plummeting. The deep abyss. Then looking up…

Was he the figure she saw above the elevator shaft…? And now that she was looking at him, he kind of fit the bill for that “mouthless” hunchback figure she’d seen earlier tonight. Her jaw could’ve hit the floor. Candace lowered her hands and turned them to fists.

“Where is he!? Where’d he go!?”

He made a small noise of grave discontent before answering. “He’s already most likely dead.”

“Like hell!” Candace stepped toward him.

“Listen ‘ere, kid,” the flamethrower guy stopped her. He shook his head into his hand and turned away for a second. “Ya wanna have a  _ lick  _ of a chance of survival out there?” He bent down and grabbed a small fabric satchel from somewhere under the worktable and tossed the bag to Candace. “Take this. And git the hell out. Go home. And don’t leave until daylight.”

Candace caught it and peeked inside. The inside had a sewn-in label that read in smudged black marker: _ Property of Ryder Parnes _ . In the bag was a bright orange revolver, but it looked almost toy-like, too chunky to be a real gun.

“It’s a flare gun,” the flamethrower guy sighed. “Sheesh. You’re worse than Raindrop.”

“Huh?” Candace flinched.

“Nothin, just ramblin.” The flamethrower guy swatted at Candace. “Now git out already! NO, wait—” He took one large stride to close the space between them and put a firm hand on her shoulder. “If you  _ hear _ anything or  _ see _ anything weird...you know what I’m talking about...”

Candace gulped and nodded.

“...you  _ hide _ . Like you did just now. You freaking. Hide. You don’t use that flare gun unless you  _ absolutely  _ have to. Understood?”

“But—”

“No but’s for Pete’s sake. Not the kind I want, anyway.”

“But when should I stop hiding?”

The flamethrower guy used the hand on her shoulder and pulled her in another inch. Candace leaned back. He tilted his head forward as if he was giving her a stern look from behind his goggles.

“Trust me. You’ll know. Y’got that?”

Candace nodded like a bobblehead. 

The flamethrower guy gave her a soft shove. “Now, git. And don’t die.”

 

* * *

 

“Guys? Guys, I’m not even laughing.” Jen padded down to the second floor. There were a few more black balloons leading down a corridor she vaguely remembered. That’s right… The Neals had a fancy home movie theater - the whole family were a bunch of movie buffs. They’d host their own movie nights during the summer for whoever wanted to come. And she knew Link and Rhett would dabble with their own home movies and have had a couple of their films projected there. But it still felt off. Where was everyone else? A little part of her hoped they were waiting for her, laughing and holding onto her clothes, wherever this trail of balloons led.

The balloons did lead to the home movie theater, where two last balloons bore red arrows in dripping paint, pointing to the blank silver screen. Jen didn’t bother taking a seat.

The screen came alive with black and white fuzz. Jen clasped her ears against the harsh, surround-sound static noise. Then silence. The screen turned black.

Jen held her breath. What was going on? 

“ _ Hello, Jennifer. _ ” A broken, unnatural voice came on the speakers.

The screen now showed a dim, shaky video of a girl in a bathtub… Jen covered her mouth. Her other hand flew to the knot in her towel.

That was  _ her _ on the screen.

“ _ Look at her. Look how happy she is. Totally oblivious to the gears turning around her. _ ”

The screen filled with static for a split second before switching to a scene straight out of a horror movie - two young adults chained to a wall and screaming, wincing away from an approaching saw blade…

Only, Jen actually recognized the two victims. They were Stevie and Link.

“NO!” Jen screamed at the screen.

She watched Link’s face as his body was sliced in half, hanging there helplessly as his bottom half became more like worms rising from rainy soil, until the saw spun completely beneath his diaphragm. Jen flinched.

“Oh my god! LINK!” She clutched at her chest and stumbled backward. “Why are you showing me this?!” she cried.

This couldn’t be real footage... But one look at Stevie’s and Link’s faces was a hard pill to swallow. Jen didn’t even realize she’d been backing away from the screen until she hit the wall.

“ _ Oh, Jennifer. I’m so sorry. That’s why I’m going to give you ten seconds… _ ”

Ten seconds to  _ what? _ Jen’s adrenaline went into overdrive. She looked all around her - it was suddenly darker than she remembered. The screen stopped playing the horrible footage and turned to hissing static.

“ _ Nine...eight...seven… _ ”

Jen held onto her towel, looked over her shoulder, stepped aside and tried to look for the nearest exit. The door she’d entered through had suddenly closed - she ran to the knob and twisted and pulled at it, only repeating the same futile door-pulling from earlier.

Sweat replaced the bathwater on her skin. She couldn’t be trapped here, no she couldn’t be.

She went back to the back-most row of the theater-style seats when she saw a figure by the side door and nearly fell to her knees.

A tall figure - a man, she assumed - wearing a skull mask with pitch black, vacant eye sockets. Stringy, black hair framed the sides of the skull like oil-slicked moss. He wore a dirty shirt underneath soiled overalls and large leather work gloves that looked dipped in rusty rouge stains. And in one of those gloves was a large metal tank with a gas mask attached to it.

He just stood there.

“ _ Jennnn. _ ” The broken voice came from the figure.

She ran.

 

* * *

 

“Uugh… I can’t get a signal out here. Could you...maybe try yours, Rhett?”

Stevie put down her phone and hung up. She walked a few more paces away from a stoic Rhett and tried to make another attempt at a phone call. The mountain usually had weak reception at the very least, but the snowstorm was probably to blame tonight.

“My phone’s dead,” Rhett said. His voice was distant, almost quiet. Barely there...much like he was right now.

Stevie huffed another sigh. Her phone went straight to a tone signal. She looked over her shoulder and saw Rhett, still standing as still and as tall as an oak, still facing toward the shed, almost in a catatonic state.

They had to get help somehow. Before it was too late. And the clock on her phone was ticking.

 

* * *

 

Jen found herself in an adjacent guest room somehow. Somehow navigating this colossal mountain lodge in the dark with nothing but a towel on. Somehow managing to ram a shoulder past the masked psycho killer and bolting away in nothing but her towel. Somehow finding herself needing to choose between hiding under the bed or leaping across to the next room.

“ _ Oh, Jennnnn. I can smell you. _ ”

Her body moved for her - jumping over the bed and out another door, into a corridor that led back to the main stairway.

The basement. Her gut was leading her to the basement, but her mind was screaming no, but that was the first place she thought of. Boxes and junk and decrepit metal to hide behind.

She needed to get away from the madman that just killed one of her closest friends - her brother. And she was both absolutely mournful and terrified.

She kept hearing echoes of his heavy booted footsteps yards behind her as she approached the steep stairs of death leading to the basement.

“OW—!” The last step was unforgiving, bending her ankle ungracefully and letting her hit the stone floor with an echoing slap. Whimpers and shallow breaths escaped her mouth.

The basement door flew open. “ _ You can’t run much farther, Jen. _ ”

She got up. She kept running.

 

* * *

 

Candace heaved a sigh of relief.

She was carefully treading toward a part of the mines that seemed to bear an opening to the outside world. She’d never felt more happy to hear howling wind and snow from a distance. She decided to take a break and sit against the mountain wall. Candace took a quick squint on her surroundings - she’d salvaged an old oil lamp from elsewhere in the mines - the whole place was like a ghost town - and the flamethrower guy had accidentally(?) left a small pack of matches in the bag. The coast seemed clear.

“O...key-doky then. Just gonna...right here…” She lowered herself to the ground and sat.

After all this running and hiding and stealthing around, a rush of sudden despair made her shoulders sink. Her brown curls clung to the little rough patches of rock when she hit her head against the wall.

A nice cuddle by the fireplace would be nice right now.

“.... _ helllp...”  _ The faintest echo of a human voice nearly got drowned by the neighboring wind.

Candace sat up. (“Ow,” she uttered, some hair clinging to the rock.) That voice. No...that couldn’t be...could it?

She adjusted the strap of her bag across her chest and picked up the lamp. It was coming from where she’d just emerged, a fork between two paths - the other she’d only seen in her peripheral and didn’t know where it led. These mines were like intricate ant pile tunnels.

Cadance heard it again. A little louder. She walked faster. Her feet were aching so bad, but she marched in spite of the blisters on her toes and heels.

She noted that she’d come from the right passage; but the two paths looked nearly identical. Like rocky nostrils. (She cringed at the image.) But the two passages seemed to look more and more like black holes the longer she stared into them.

She looked at the left one. More faint, beckoning calls in that familiar voice… Candace stood still for moments on end, lamp held in front of her, eyes glued to the left passage.

“...Chase?” She took a step forward.

A shadow flew forward. Sharp teeth bared inches from her face. It happened so fast.

 

* * *

 

“ _ Embrace the taste of defeat, Jen, _ ” said the madman. His heavy feet trudged along the stone floor. His metal tank grated behind him.  _ “It’ll leave you laughing… _ ”

Jen saw the baseball bat - the sweet, sweet, wooden baseball bat she remembered was there, just within reach. Just in case. She hoped he couldn’t actually smell her (whether it was her bath soap or her BO). She hid behind a small niche between the breakers and the wall, relying on the darkness to conceal her.

“ _ Hey...hey giiirl...hey girrrly… _ ” His voice made Jen wince. She struggled to hold her breath when she was still trying to catch it. “ _ I know you’re in heeeere….GOTCHA. _ ”

Jen screamed bloody murder—an arm wrapped around her neck. She saw the gas mask in his gloved hand trying to reach her mouth, but she fought him. Her hand reached...reached for the baseball bat…

“ _ OWW!! SONUVABITCH! _ ” The masked man reeled back from the bat’s impact against his head.

Then Jen ran, ran, ran, ran.

Past the corridor she and Link went through earlier, past all the boxes of old comics and memories she almost didn’t see in the dark, there was an even more claustrophobic corridor—this time with dusted wine racks and a curious-looking door with old metal trim that looked larger than most of the doors in the lodge.

“What?” Jen ran her hands down the despairingly flat, unmoving door. “ _ No door knob? _ ”

She looked back and saw the madman’s figure turning the corner.

Jen rammed her shoulder into door. Some progress—painful, but progress.

“ _ You’ll have to do better than that, _ ” the madman hissed.

Jen grabbed an old wine bottle from the dusted rack. “Taste THIS!” She hurled the bottle at him like a javelin thrower.

The bottle shattered against the madman’s head with a satisfying shatter. He toppled over, drenched in red wine. That should buy her some time.

Jen went back to the door: She kept forcing all her weight into it, ramming into it until the door finally gave in. She fell on her face again.

From what debris hit her face alone, she could tell this was a completely different part of the house. Jen looked up.  _ What in the world was this place? _

She couldn’t contemplate it—she got up the best she could and stumbled forward. The archways were different. (There  _ were _ archways.) The walls were different—with peeling wallpaper and eroded bricks… There was… a gated elevator shaft? There was an old elevator level meter above the gate, the numbers in intricate lettering. She glanced down at the elevator shaft - it had seen better days. Not jumping in there today.

Jen turned another corner and ran down another passage. It was almost like she’d entered another building...an old hotel perhaps?

“ _ Oh, so close. _ ”

From a blind spot, the madman blocked her path and shoved the gas mask over her mouth, cradling her head with his other gloved hand. Her screams were muffled.

“ _ There, there… time to join your friendss... _ ” His voice faded. His stained mask grew out of focus.

 

* * *

 

_ 2:01 A.M. - The Lodge, Kitchen _

 

“Y’know, we would’ve been back here a lot sooner if you hadn’t bothered with your phone.” Rhett marched back into the kitchen, the outside wind howling behind him as the great doors opened into the room.

Stevie made a beeline for the wireless home phone on the kitchen counter, picked it up, and put it on speakerphone. “Oh. Whaddya know?  _ None  _ of the phones work on this godforsaken mountain tonight! I was just  _ trying  _ to make contact with outside civilization for obvious, life-threatening reasons.”

“You weren’t always like this.”

“Like what?” Stevie craned her neck.

“Like… Never mind.” Rhett marched toward the door leading back to the rest of the lodge. “Poor Jen is holed up in her room hopefully.”

Stevie hurried to follow Rhett. Something about what Rhett started to say, but reeled back, slowed her down. She glanced at her blood-soaked clothes and looked back at Rhett with a new freakout fervor. “Something tells me she might not be so lucky.”

Rhett tisked. They stopped at the foot of the main stairway and saw all the balloons and candles surrounding it.

“Looooks like a party I won’t be attending.” Stevie gaped at the unsettling decor.

Rhett started heading up the stairs. He took one step on the stairs and noticed a faint but still visible series of wet spots on the wooden floor and steps. Very faint curves of condensation in thin imprints of feet. Definitely small enough to be Jen’s.

“Crap… You’re right.” He stepped back, crouched, and squinted at the floor, trying to follow where the trail of footprints went. “We might be too late.”

A flashlight beam lit up the floor. Rhett’s head flinched to find the source behind him.

Stevie jiggled the flashlight in her hand. “It was in that bureau over there.”

“Whew,” Rhett sighed. “That’s one less thing we have to worry about.” His head naturally turned back toward the footsteps and looked ahead instead of at the floor.

A tall, translucent figure walked through a wall and through the door to the basement.

Rhett shuddered so much he fell on his butt.

“Jesus, Rhett—” Stevie reached down to help him up. “—what was that?”

“Please tell me you saw that.”

“Wha—I, I didn’t see anything just now, what are you talking about?”

Rhett pointed at the basement door. “I saw...gosh, I know it’s not a ghost, but it freaking walked through the wall and into the door without opening it!”

Stevie’s flashlight beam flew to the basement door and illuminated nothing else but the door and surrounding walls. The light beam trembled with Stevie’s hand. “It’s trying to communicate something to us.”

Rhett pushed himself off the floor and scrunched his face in doubt. “Or that psycho killer’s toying with us again!”

“But we literally have a trail leading us to Jen—hopefully!”

“I know, I know… I agree. But I swear if I see that ‘ghost’ again, I’m gonna find whatever projector or mirror that’s making it and smash it in myself.” He took a few first tentative steps toward the door. He gulped. He was afraid of the Neals’ basement for the first time he could remember.

 

* * *

 

_ 2:13 A.M. - North West Mines _

 

All she saw were teeth and eyes. Sharp, long, crooked teeth; large, cloudy, bulbous eyes. And all she heard was a horrifying shriek that threatened to shatter her eardrums.

And her hand instinctively swung the lantern into the creature’s face.

“Fuck nuggets!” Candace sprinted in the opposite direction.

She heard wounded screeches bounce off the mine walls. The satchel strap across her chest kept hitting against her sternum. It was high time to get out of these mines.

She heard quick, too-quick patters of feet scampering behind her. And with every scamper, a few gruff growls that sounded both canine and human. The bag was starting to bother her so she reached to hold the strap still—

Wait a hot sec. The flare gun. Not quite a shotgun, but she had a chance. She pulled it out, with a perfunctory glance over its orange plastic body and a quick cock of the barrel.

The snowy wind yearned for her to run faster. There was a clearing in the cave that housed another mining area before she saw the tunnel that curved and refracted incoming moonlight. She saw wooden beams for makeshift structures miners must have used to work and rest under, vaguely similar to the the flamethrower guy’s niche.

_ Crap _ , she thought. She remembered the flamethrower guy’s advice.

Hide.

Somewhere.  _ Anywhere.  _

But Candace couldn’t find a clear opening—

“AAAAAHHH—”

The ground hit her chest. Hands— _ claws _ —pinned her back down. Then teeth; they were like knives digging into her shoulder.

 

* * *

 

_ 2:28 A.M. - The Lodge, Basement _

  
  


They found another flashlight in one of the old lockers. Rhett could’ve kissed the ground.

But the lack of Jen still put him and Stevie on edge. And Stevie. Rhett shook his head to himself. He looked over and saw Stevie’s beaming her flashlight at the ceiling.

“Ugh. How many rats’ nests do you think could fit up there?”

“Zero.” Rhett walked over to a baseball bat lying in the middle of the room. “The Neals can afford to fumigate this place into oblivion.” He knelt and bent down.

“Poor Jen. Can't believe you pranked her down here.”

Rhett squirmed a little. “It was stupid, yeah. But it was just a prank, I swear. Not entirely meant for her either...” On impulse, he sniffed the air around the bat. “Huh. You smell something?”

Stevie took a couple deep sniffs. “Just Jack Frost nipping at my nose.” She stepped over to where Rhett was. “You found a smelly bat?”

“Not smelly, per se…” Rhett got up and continued to inhale the air, trying to pinpoint the faint scent he’d just acquired. “Just this faint after-scent of something… minty? Peppermint? But not like freshly dropped gum on the floor. It’s faint…”

Stevie shrugged and released an exasperated sigh. “It’s the holidays, Rhett. Maybe there’s some flavored decor that’s lying around here. We gotta find Jen.” Stevie proceeded toward the hallway to the other basement room. Her voice echoed more as she walked farther away from Rhett. “I don't see any more of her footprints and the fact that there’s a psycho in a mask like the fucking  _ Scream  _ killer is inching me closer to having a...”

“Don’t go too far ahead without me,” Rhett called after her. He took a quick look at the bat for another second, then decided to stand up. “Please, Steve?”

There was silence for a few more moments than Rhett felt comfortable with.

“Stevie?” Rhett marched forward.

“Whoa-ha,” Stevie’s voice bounced in the distance. “Looks like someone broke open some pinot noir without me.”

 

* * *

 

The orange flare gun was still in her hand. Candace shut her eyes and, for the first time in history, prayed. Prayed she could shoot behind her without looking. Right over her shoulder.

She pulled the trigger.

A loud  _ POP! _ and subsequent fizzle—like paper quickly catching fire—nearly broke her eardrums. But judging from the even harsher, demonic wails and screams behind her, she’d shot it good. The claws and teeth relinquished her.

Candace didn’t look back. The moonlight was calling her.

When she reached the opening of the cave, she immediately flanked the right side of it and pressed her back against the shadowed wall, concealing herself.

The moonlight shone down on the gratuitous piles of sharp rocks in front of her. Candace was barely fazed by the rocks now. There was a wide-enough clearing outside the mining area for her to get back onto the main trails from here, rocks be damned.

Behind the rocks was a towering, towering cliffside… There were broken branches at the very top of the cliff, the twig-like things barely hanging on. She couldn’t imagine being at the top of that cliff right now, how dizzy she’d be staring down into the snowy, sharp rocks… There was a word for that, Candace briefly thought, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

Candace gasped—she could hear it coming. Or was it her imagination? She was ready to wait. She leaned back on the rock face—immediately wincing. Her shoulder was still fresh, raw from the bite.

“Craaap,” Candace whined. She took many deep breaths. This was almost over. There was so much she had to tell the guys. She had to warn them.  _ They better be playing Yahtzee without me or something stupid, _ she thought.  _ Not getting killed by these monsters… _

She peered to her left, back at the entrance. Still nothing. Then, as if checking both sides of the street before crossing—just to check all her bases—Candace peered to her right.

She covered her gaping mouth. She took a few careful steps to the right, to what she saw in front of her now. Then she stopped.

She couldn’t help shivering. She was shocked, she was cold. She braced herself.

“No…” Tears welled in her eyes faster than she could hold them back.

Two makeshift wooden crosses were stuck in the ground next to each other, on a path that curved back into the mines. If she wasn’t looking so intently she would’ve missed them. There was writing on them.

She didn’t need to look closer. She knew whom those crosses were for.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried. Her knees hit the ground. “You guys didn’t deserve this.”

The handwriting looked vaguely familiar, though.

Candace peeked in her bag, at the label sewn inside. It had to be his. A teardrop among many stained the black marker, blurring it even more.

 

* * *

 

_ 2:35 A.M. - The Old Hotel _

 

“What is this place…?” Stevie’s flashlight beam darted from wall to broken wall of this new part of the basement, if they could even still call it that.

“The Hollywood Tower Hotel met with a nuke apparently.” Rhett walked in front of Stevie now. They passed by a broken gated elevator shaft and continued walking at a cautious pace down a corridor. “I guess it’s safe to assume our dear lodge was built over this place.”

The broken hallway housed a choice of empty hotel rooms, almost all of them unlit and vacant. A set of double doors, once meant to impress with dazzling detail in its frame, awaited them at the end of the hallway.

“You still think that bridge is creepy?” Rhett asked.

Stevie kept gazing and gaping at everything above and ahead of her. Her flashlight kept spotlighting every detail she wanted to drink in. “This is another level. Like ‘Sebastian’s old apartment in  _ Blade Runner _ ’ level.” She shuddered. “But without the dolls.”

Rhett sighed. “I hear ya.”  _ Link… _ he thought with apprehension in his gut.  _ What could possibly be down here that you didn’t tell me about? _ This would’ve been a prime venue for him and Link to explore in better circumstances. Maybe Link didn’t know about this preserved shell of a hotel underneath his parents’ mountain mansion.

He placed a firm palm on one of the dusty, filmy doors and pushed forward.

Another dark hallway awaited them, this time much more spartan. A variety of double doors and single doors, all nearly identical in age and unsightliness, lined each side of the wider new hallway.

“There!” Stevie gasped and pointed her flashlight.

The tall ghost ambled across the hallway into a set of double doors ahead of them.

Rhett furrowed his brow. He charged down the hall.

“Wait!” Stevie’s steps charged behind him.

The ghost was gone, but Rhett wasn’t having it. He screeched to a halt in the middle of the run-down hallway where they saw the ghost appear and disappear. The ghost phased into the double doors to his left; but instead, he ran to the single door on his right, from where the ghost had emerged.

It opened, loudly with rust, but with ease.

Rhett was greeted with an old overhead projector sitting on an AV cart. Its ancient, yellow bulb was the only source of light in the room. And the picture being projected onto the wall was the last thing he thought he’d see tonight.

“Rhett, what are you—?” Stevie galloped to a halt right behind him.

She dropped her flashlight.

“Whoa!” Rhett gasped and hurried to pick it up and tried to give it back to her.

Stevie stood still, unmoving, eyes wide open and fixed to the picture on the wall.

“How did that get there?” Her voice shook more than a leaf in the wind.

Rhett looked back at the picture on the wall and cocked a brow. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he sighed.

Stevie shook her head. His guess would never be as good as hers.

Because that was the photo of Rhett and Link that she’d taken last year. The same photo of them splayed on the guest cabin couch, not an inch of delicate skin concealed, behind a lacy window curtain, like a voyeur’s delight. The same photo she’d taken with her phone the day before Jessie and Christy’s disappearance. The exact same one. Somehow, it had gotten stolen from her phone and now was printed on a transparency for her and Rhett’s viewing pleasure.

“What I wanna know...is who had the balls to take this picture?” Rhett chuckled in disbelief. “No, he had to have done it. No one else could’ve sunken this low. But man, I can’t believe it. I’m gonna take him down with my bare hands. I swear. That psycho’s a  _ creep. _ ”

Something inside Stevie snapped. She was drowning—but she was standing right there with Rhett. But she couldn’t  _ breathe _ , she couldn’t take it. She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stevie...” Rhett reached out to her. “You’re white as a—”

Stevie flinched away. Anger. Sadness. Madness. Guilt. It all flooded her at once. She clutched her face with her hands.

“I can’t… I can’t deal with this—I just want last year to GO AWAY!”

She stormed out of the room.


	7. California

_2:53 A.M. - The Old Hotel_

 

“Stevie!” Rhett jumped after her.

“Can we STOP talking about LAST YEAR already!” She busted through the double doors that the ghost had ambled through. Her breathing and shouting and stomping became distorted in the acoustics, as her figure disappeared in the darkness of the next room. “I can’t DO this anymore!”

Rhett was so confused. But not as much as he was scared of the dense blackness that swallowed Stevie’s retreating figure. He ran through the double doors with new urgency, flashlight beamed straight ahead.

The room sounded larger than the last one, and it was in fact a large kitchen, big enough for an Iron Chef and his team. Corners of silver shelves and kitchen islands shined in the little circle of light Rhett had. Quick movements echoed as if in a cave; he couldn’t tell if they were his or Stevie’s. The floor was hard and unforgiving against his shoes. A shiver ran up his spine—Rhett shuddered. Without the light, he could barely see his hand when he waved it in front of his face.

“STEVIE!” He covered his face with a heavy hand. _Oh my god…_ He didn’t want to lose another friend.

He found a small square dining table with three chairs. One was empty. Another one was occupied by a visibly unconscious Stevie, slumped over the table, her long hair a tangled red blob over her arms. And another had a decayed corpse-like body wearing what had to be Jen’s clothes. But that couldn’t be Jen...there was no way.

“ _Oh, Rhett…_ ” It was the voice. Except much closer. Somewhere in the room.

Rhett took one swift step and spun around - then got dizzy. The darkness was so disorienting. He flashed his light in front of him: nothing but cutlery on another kitchen island.

“ _Oh, Rhett, Rhett, Rhett_...” the distorted voice sing-songed.

Rhett spun around again - still no one else. Stevie and the Jen-corpse sat there, still.

“I’ll never forgive you!” he heard himself shout like he’d never heard before, almost like a roar.

_A bit much, Rhett_ , he thought to himself. But he couldn’t help it. He felt so alone now. Without Stevie. Without Link.

“ _I never asked you to_ _,_ ” the voice growled back.

A hand clapped over Rhett’s mouth. The hand shoved a strong-smelling cloth against Rhett’s mouth and nose, and Rhett gasped. The flashlight and what little light with it clattered and bounced loudly on the hard floor.

He felt his knees give as he started to black out.

He noticed the masked killer had to be shorter than him, judging from how the hand flew upward from behind him. But then again, most people were short compared to Rhett.

 

* * *

 

_August 2012, 4:02 P.M. - AV Room_

 

Stevie woke with a start.

_What a power nap,_ she thought. She checked her watch. The club meeting was supposed to start any minute. She’d heard good things about this school’s film and media programs, so she was excited to be a part of it, starting today. But first, she took a minute to yawn and cat-stretch at her desk, right in the front of the room. Her long, thin hair kept getting caught in her face, so she spent another good minute untangling it.

“Opinions are like buttholes,” said a loud and confident male classmate from behind her.

Stevie made a face. She slowly turned around to see who in the _freaking_ world would say that.

She saw two tall boys a couple desks down the row she was sitting in. A couple of other club members around them snorted after hearing the dark-haired boy’s bold statement. She could tell it was the dark-haired boy who’d said it, leaning coolly against his desk, and not the light-haired boy with crossed arms and an eyebrow cocked so incredulously it could’ve rivaled The Rock.

“Your mouth is a butthole, you big fart,” said the taller— _much_ taller—light-haired boy. Wow, he was tall. He had a mole above his upper lip like a beauty mark. His short hair was styled upward - with a few locks by his forhead curled inward - but it wasn’t long enough to make a pompadour, so it looked like a small lawn of dirty blonde grass sticking out of his head. He combed a hand over his hair and made the grassy hair curve backward.

“I wasn’t finished yet, dingus.” the dark-haired boy smiled and playfully socked the other boy’s arm. “Opinions are like buttholes: everyone has them, but they all stink.”

A small storm of laughter spread throughout the room. Stevie noted the boys’ effect on everyone else. She was still scoping the school, trying to find strange differences between Canada and California, but Canadians seemed normal. At least the ones around her age.

She turned back when the club officers stood and went up to the whiteboard. Alex and Candace conducted the meeting - a ginger with a handlebar moustache, and a girl with brown wavy hair and a wardrobe stuck in the 90’s. Chase, a short brunette guy who seemed friendly and attentive but soft-spoken, wrote notes on the whiteboard. Mike wore a beanie cap and a beard and sunglasses indoors and did nothing but sit cross-legged on the teacher’s desk and leaned against Alex’s shoulder the whole time.

“Pssst. Can we sit with you?” someone whispered.

Stevie flinched away from the whiteboard and looked next to her.

It was the two boys from earlier. The dark-haired one wore a huge toothy grin. The light-haired one’s smile was more sheepish. They were comically crouching to keep eye-level with her

“Sure!” she said. A rush of excitement hit her like a gust of wind.

“We couldn’t help but notice you were sitting alone,” the light-haired one said. She’d normally be a little creeped out by that statement, but something about his green eyes put her at ease.

“Well...I’m kinda used to it.” She adjusted the way her oversized black t-shirt hung on her shoulders. The light-haired one noticed.

“Awwww.” The dark-haired one made a pouty face. “Ya don’t have to be a lone wolf, girl.”

“It’s okay,” Stevie laughed. “I just transferred here, actually.” She took some strands of her hair and absently twirled them with her fingers. “I flew in from California with my dad about a week ago.”

They both made little o’s with their mouths. It was like looking at twins for a split second.

“Really? You must think Ca-nay-dia is strange, eh?” the light-haired one spoke in an exaggerated accent.

Stevie tried to contain her laugh behind tight lips.

“Don’t worry,” the dark-haired one chimed in, “only Rhett speaks like that, on the weekends.”

She smiled. She liked them already.

“I’m Stevie.” She held out her hand between the two of them, eager to see who’d shake it first.

They both went for her hand. Their manual collision made a _blunk!_ noise. Stevie giggled.

“Jeez man, your hand made of cement?” The dark-haired boy practically threw his hand into hers. “I’m Link.” A firm handshake. “And this goon here—”

“I’m Rhett.” He shook Stevie’s hand. He seemed like a gentle giant. “Ignore him.”

Link stuck his face nearly an inch away from Rhett’s, with bug eyes and flared nostrils to boot.

Stevie laughed and laughed. “I don’t think I can.”

 

***

 

Rhett and Link spotted Stevie in the cafeteria a couple days later. They were sitting with a bunch of other people she recognized from the club meeting. She saw them from across the room after she got her food; they were waving their arms in the air like castaways on their island of a lunch table. She almost didn’t recognize Rhett; he had a buzz cut now.

“CALIFORNIA!” Link yelled with his hands cupped over his mouth.

“Stevie!” Rhett waved.

Stevie smiled.

She met Jessie, Link’s sister, and Christy, Rhett’s sister. She also formally met Alex and Mike, Chase, Candace, her stunningly gorgeous friend Shannon, and Shannon’s cute friend Becca, whom she sat next to. She sat directly across from Rhett and Link, who were also talking with their friend Jen, a close family friend of Link’s.

She found it interesting that Rhett and Link sat very close to each other, maybe two inches at most. Jessie sat next to Rhett, while Christy sat next to Link.

“Don’t be disappointed,” Jessie said, “but you’re sitting with a bunch of dorks.” She pointed a thumb toward her brother and Rhett. Christy nodded in agreement.

Rhett rested an arm around Jessie’s chair and craned his neck at the pint-sized girl. “ _Hey_.”

“It’s so true, though, not even gonna lie,” Christy laughed. “I mean, look at these two.”

Link scrunched his face at the smiley blonde next to him. Then he booped her nose with his fingertip. “Yeah, we’re lame,” he said, turning back to face Stevie and grinned.

Stevie shook her head. “I’d say Rhett’s haircut is more military than dorky.”

Rhett’s smiled tentatively. “You like it?” He shrugged and rested a hand on the glistening stubs of hair on his scalp. “It was...really spur of the moment. Got tired of the up-do.”

Link leaned in to inspect Rhett’s head more closely. “I liked the up-do.”

Rhett puffed an exhale and turned to face Link. The two of them were nearly nose to nose.

Link recoiled.

Rhett’s cheeks started looking rosier. “Well too bad, brother.”

Stevie blinked. Her eyes hopped between them the rest of the lunch period.

 

***

 

The three of them were an A-team. Every project, Stevie got to know them a little better.

Link always brought peanut butter crackers when they edited footage; he said they helped him think. (“Also makes my meds go down easier when they taste like this,” he said as he shoved two cracker sandwiches into his mouth.) He also really knew how to get into character. One day, he walked into the AV room dressed in drag, but he had the mannerisms and speech of a middle-aged woman down so well Stevie didn’t recognize him at first.

Rhett was a stickler for details - in the script, in every scene, in the props and costumes - and he wouldn’t stop working until they could get them just right. A man after her own heart. He always insisted on taking at least three takes, and he was an A+ improviser, especially when he shared a scene with Link.

Those two really had a chemistry Stevie couldn’t ignore. Even when they’d meet up on the weekends or a slow school night, Stevie noticed it. She liked to sit back and watch them talk in Link’s black pickup truck, at froyo bars, at actual bars, or anywhere really.

But she couldn’t help sensing something else between them.

There was one evening they went to a bookstore cafe to study for midterms. Stevie left their table of strewn notes and textbooks to use the restroom. When she was walking back to the table, she noticed Link’s hand clasped over Rhett’s. They were both staring at each other stern-faced. Rhett’s mouth hung open.

Link removed his hand when Stevie was within earshot of them. She’d overheard the words “that way”, but the two boys were already reading over their own notes, as if ignoring each other, once Stevie sat back down.

 

***

 

One Monday in November, something just clicked during a brainstorming session for a sketch idea for the school broadcast. Stevie was blown away by these guys’ mad genius.

They worked all week shooting scenes after school. She preferred to work behind the camera, but she had her on-screen parts with them, usually in ridiculous, handmade or borrowed outfits. And she captured some truly incredible footage of Rhett and Link for this sketch that they’d written together. It involved cop costumes, a white morph suit, and lots of duct tape; and somehow it all came together.

After wrapping up that day, Stevie left Rhett and Link to go get a book she almost forgot from her locker. Rhett wanted to accompany her. “It’s okaay,” she insisted. “Get outta here. You guys killed it today.”

She went to her locker on the third floor of the main building and opened it.

Then she waited.

After approximately twenty minutes of Candy Crush on her phone, she finally retrieved her book and closed her locker.

The sky was a fading swirl of orange and pink. Stevie held her used copy of _Wuthering Heights_ to her chest against the evening chill. The student parking lot was a virtually empty and vast square of asphalt. Her sad sedan looked even smaller in the lot.

Stevie was walking around to the driver’s door when she spotted another car in the distance. A black pickup truck she recognized. Inside, a tall, light-haired boy sat with his hand rested against a dark-haired boy’s neck. The two of them were nearly nose to nose.

 

***

 

Rhett sat at the editing computer in the AV room. Stevie sat next to him and ate some chips. Eating and editing...a bad habit she picked up from Link. Link was off at soccer practice. He wasn’t usually zealous about his family-enforced sport, but lately he’d been devoting more time to practicing with the team.

“Ssssso.” Stevie ate a chip and took her time munching on it.

“Yyyyyes, Stevie?”

Stevie swallowed her chip. “How are you and Link?”

Rhett licked his lips and pressed them. He gulped silently and continued to tinker with After Effects on the computer. “We’re...fine, I guess.” He looked at her. “You notice it, too?”

Stevie thought about it. “I’m surprised not everyone else notices it.”

“I mean, Link can get really moody sometimes, but he’s been dodging me like I’m a bullet lately.”

“Honestly, I thought the opposite would be true.”

“Nope.” Rhett shook his head. The sigh he heaved was heavier than an ox. “It’s kinda bumming me out, because—” He stuttered over something, then shook his head. “Because I can’t really do anything about it. It’s gotta come from Link, I think. I can’t force him to change it, but I can’t force myself to change how I feel about it. It is what it is.”

“That’s awfully specific, Rhett.”

Rhett grimaced. “Forget it.” He shrugged and looked back at the screen with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter. Link’s just being...stupid.”

Stevie put down her bag of chips and rolled her chair closer to Rhett. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Rhett didn’t look at her. His hand absently rubbed the back of his neck. He started to bounce his leg under the table. “I know…” His voice was soft.

They sat in silence for maybe ten minutes. Stevie checked her watch: a little past 4:30 P.M. She was ready to stay late for their work, as per usual.

Rhett suddenly turned to face her. “Stevie?”

Stevie reeled back. “Yes?”

“Don’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

She felt her stomach drop.

Rhett’s eyebrows slanted upward in an apex of worry. “Please?”

 

***

 

_2013_

 

Through spring semester and summer break, Stevie started branching out her network at the lunch table. She started talking to Jen more and sitting next to her at lunch. She also got to know Becca and Shannon more. (Much to Candace’s subtle chagrin, Stevie noticed.) Weekends and months passed, and before she knew it, it was the start of senior year already. She’d successfully managed to make her hangouts with Rhett and Link fewer and farther between.

She noticed a significant difference whenever she did see them outside of the AV room.

She dabbled more with mixed drinks. But not too much, because the guys would ask her to drive them now.

And when she drove them, they’d both sit in her backseat. It started when she still had junk from previous projects piled in the front seat; but even after she cleaned it, they went straight for the backseat. If they were driving late at night, she’d pretend she wasn’t paying attention to their silent interactions in her rearview mirror. There was never anything explicit in her car.

But she just _knew._

“You okay?” Rhett asked one night at a venue. Link had gotten up to get a soda.

“Yeah, I’m peachy.” She took another sip of her mixed drink. “Just like this drink. Not bad.”

He leaned in closer. “You don’t have to do this.”

Stevie took another pensive sip and stared at him. “Oh.” She got it. “But, Rhett. You’ve _clearly_ got it bad for him.” She took the last swig of her drink and hit her glass on the table. “It’s just a shame. Jessie and your sister—”

“I _know_ , Stevie,” he said with his eyes squeezed closed. Rhett titled his head back against the booth they were in. “Trust me, I know. It’s complicated. And I hate it. But...” A small smirk crept up his lips. It was quickly replaced with a frown. “Trust me, I know.”

“I want you to be happy,” Stevie said.

The hardness in Rhett’s face melted away. “Really?” he smiled.

“Really happy.” Stevie forced a smile.

Sometimes, Jessie and Christy would join Stevie and Jen on their weekend adventures. Stevie couldn’t look those poor girls in the eye for more than a second.

 

*** 

 

_2014_

 

Senior year ended, and everything sucked. Sure, she graduated, flying colors, etc. But God, everything sucked. It was just a countdown to college now. Orientation was a month away.

She rolled over in bed one June morning. The sun was way too bright. Her throat felt like the Sahara; her head pounded. Her stained two-piece suit from prom still hung from her dresser. She swore she was going to get it dry-cleaned. Eventually.

She lazily fished for her phone somewhere next to her. The slits of her eyes peeked at the screen. It was only 8 o’clock. She unlocked her phone.

Still no texts from Becca. Or Shannon. Or even Jen.

Apparently Link texted everyone out of the blue about a Christmas party at his rich dad’s winter lodge or something. The whole lunch table was supposedly gonna be there. Even Jessie and Christy. Crap, it was only June, and he was already thinking about Christmas. Stevie couldn’t even think about what the rest of the year held for her.

Stevie buried her head in her pillow. Then she unburied it.

Her thumbs went on autopilot. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard on her screen. The blinking cursor taunted her in the blank space for a new message to Rhett.

She tossed the phone away from her.

“Fuck it,” she said, muffled by her pillow. She went back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

_December 2015, 3:58 A.M. - The Old Hotel_

 

Rhett could feel himself waking up. But his chest felt tight. He tried leaning forward in the hard chair he was sitting in, but he could feel it - ropes. Lots of them.

He could still move his arms, limitedly. His flashlight was missing, so the room was still mostly a sea of black. But Rhett could decipher faint outlines of things. He groped around and felt the arms of his wooden chair, and the edge of the dining table he’d seen earlier.

“Stevie?” he called out. “Steve, if you can hear me, say something. Anything.”

Rhett squinted. He could faintly make out the offputting Jen dummy to his left. And even more faintly, there was a figure with long hair sitting across from him, most likely tied to the chair too.

“California,” Stevie’s voice echoed quietly.

Rhett sighed in relief. Then he furrowed his brow. “Do you miss it?”

“That’s what Link used to call me.” Stevie’s voice wobbled. “And yeah, sometimes. The beach is deserted this time of year, we should visit…”

He saw the outline of her head shake and lower her face. Then he heard sniffling. Crying.

Rhett craned his neck. “Stevie?”

“I’m so sorry, Rhett.” Stevie cried some more. “For everything.”

Rhett felt his heart break. “I don’t blame you at all, Stevie. You weren’t always so... I get it, I really do. So much has happened since last year—”

“No,” she nearly shouted. “Blame me. I…” She paused. Shallow breaths and sniffles filled the gap. “I did it.” More shallow, pained breathing echoed. “I took that picture. And...I sent it to Christy. The night they disappeared.”

Rhett blinked. Not that it mattered - it was all dark to him. It all hit him at once.

“I didn’t think they’d run off into the woods, I swear,” Stevie cried.

“Why?” Rhett leaned forward but was yanked back by the ropes. “Why would you do that, what _were_ you thinking?”

“I was tired of everything.” Her head looked up toward him. “Tired of feeling like an accessory to a crime whenever I’d pick you and Link up. I just couldn’t look them in the eye knowing their brothers were fooling—”

“Stop.”

“If you weren’t going to tell them, then someone had to—”

“Stevie.”

“You knew better.”

“So did _you_.”

“God, Rhett!” Stevie sobbed. “Isn’t safe to say we both fucked up?” She coughed and struggled to sniffle through her stuffed nose. “Cuz I know I did.”

Rhett sank in his chair, as much as the ropes allowed him. He gulped back the anger he felt boiling under his skin. Because underneath that hard, bitter shell was still a friend. He couldn’t stay riled up. Not when the truth was the only clear thing in the room right now. Link would’ve had something to say to this, but even he couldn’t argue.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” Rhett’s voice softened. “You can still tell me anything. You know that, right?”

A weird sound, like a chuckle, came from Stevie. “But, Rhett. You _clearly_ had it bad for Link. You still do. I don’t think you would’ve listened. Would you?”

Rhett stayed silent.

“I still want you to be happy. But.” Another chuckle. “It’s still a damn shame. Jessie. Christy. And now Link is—”

“I know.” Rhett winced.

“I’m sorry,” Stevie said again. “I’m so sorry.” She took a much needed deep, deep breath. “Huh.”

“What?” Rhett perked up.

She sniffled. “I had the strangest deja vu.”

Rhett opened his mouth to speak. “AAHH!” He winced.

Bright white filled the room like heavenly light itself. Rhett squinted and saw halogen bulbs set up on stands a few feet away. The Jen dummy’s sat slack in the chair; its jaw bone hung wide open. Stevie sat across from him, her face streaked with tears.

And there was a gun on the table. A handgun, it seemed. Just within Rhett’s reach.

“God, not again!” Stevie looked up.

Rhett looked to the ceiling.

He was greeted with a rig equipped with two large saw blades whirring and roaring to life. They looked like silver streaks with sparks flying from them. They lurched downward, aimed straight for their heads.

“ _How about another experiment then, shall we?_ ” the voice echoed.


	8. Not an Exit

 

_ 4:15 A.M. - The Old Hotel, Kitchen _

  
  


“ _ You can spare another life, Rhett. Your friend’s...or your own. If you don’t choose...then you both deserve what’s dropping soon. Don’t make this too hard on yourself this time. _ ”

Rhett picked up the handgun from the table. Something didn’t feel right.

“Rhett, what are you doing?” Stevie called.

The handgun felt cold and metal and intimidating, as a gun would. But oddly familiar. Even if vaguely. 

“Rhett?” Stevie craned her neck.

Did the Neals own a gun? Maybe he’d heard Link bragging about it. The spinning saw kept roaring just above him. Link would brag about something like his dad owning a type of gun.

Rhett aimed the gun at his jaw.

“ _ Rhett! _ ”

 

* * *

 

_ 3:58 A.M. - The Old Hotel, Backroom _

 

Jen freed her right wrist from its rope.

_ Now the left _ , she thought. She wiggled her right hand first - the rope left a mark from how tight it was. But the madman didn’t seem to bother tying her feet or her body to this old swivel chair. 

The room she found herself in smelled oppressively musty. That’s probably what woke her up a few minutes ago. Like an old attic without the rising heat. It was actually still quite frigid now that the bath water from earlier had completely left her skin. Just a little more wiggle room now…and her left wrist was free.

“Thank you, God,” she whispered to herself. She rubbed her sore wrists. 

Her first instinct was to escape. The room looked unthreatening - it was some kind of former administrative room, a time capsule from another decade. The lighting could’ve been better, if the ceiling lights hadn’t been smashed in. There were ugly-colored chairs lined against the wall adjacent to a door that read “THIS IS NOT AN EXIT” on an old gold plate. She saw a desk with a typewriter and other office paraphernalia behind a long countertop. Across from the counter were some shelves that must have held workers’ belongings. She stepped over to the cobwebbed shelves and found two of them that’d been recently occupied.

_ My clothes _ , Jen thought. Not the clothes she was originally going to change into, but another sweater and pair of pants she could easily slip into now. But why they were there, Jen couldn’t fathom. Maybe the masked madman was strangely hospitable to his hostages? She went ahead and changed clothes.

The other shelf contained a single smartphone, too new to have stayed here for long.  _ Oh no…  _ Jen thought.  _ This could belong to someone else that he…  _ Jen shook her head and the thought away. The phone appeared to be clean; even the screen looked freshly polished.

She unlocked the phone. It immediately opened to a text message thread that had been left open. It didn’t look much like a conversation.

 

> **Dr. Graham:**
> 
> _ Whatever your ‘plan’ involves, you need to stop. _
> 
>  
> 
> **Dr. Graham:**
> 
> _ You’re going to do more harm than good to yourself and others. _
> 
>  
> 
> **Dr. Graham:**
> 
> _ Are you regularly taking your medication? _
> 
>  
> 
> **Dr. Graham:**
> 
> _ Please call me as soon as you can. Please. _
> 
>  
> 
> **Dr. Graham:**
> 
> _ I’m worried about you. _
> 
>  
> 
> **You:**
> 
> STOP CALLING ME

 

Jen closed out of the text message app and placed the phone back in its shelf. The phone background was a picture of a sign saying “Welcome to Fish Creek Park.” There were 5 missed calls she saw on the screen, all of them by the same Dr. Graham.

Jen’s fingers lingered over the screen. Something didn’t feel right. She stared at the phone for a moment longer.

She took the phone.

Jen then tried the door that wasn’t an exit, just to make sure it wasn’t. The only other door in the room looked like a loose tooth barely hanging on to one hinge.

“Not an exit, huh?” Jen said. It swung open, into a long, narrow passage, with brick walls and a pale light at the end. Jen turned on the flashlight on the phone.

It led to a small office with no windows and one light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The desk was messier than the one behind the front counter. There was a blueprint for some kind of mechanism that Jen couldn’t clearly decipher: something that involved a person sticking their head through a hole in a wall to rest their chin on top of a headless dummy that hung by its wrists against the same wall…

“What the…?” Jen blinked furiously. The headless dummy’s ties looked like the same restraints used on Stevie and Link in that horrible footage she’d seen earlier.

Jen noticed one of the desk drawers was left ajar in her peripheral. She went to open it without a second thought and shone the phone light on it.

Five cockroaches crawled out of the drawer.

“CRAP!” Jen stumbled backward. She nearly would’ve fallen over if she hadn’t noticed the name on a file folder inside the drawer. She waited for the cockroaches to scatter far enough away before sticking her hand inside.

“ _Neal, Link_ ” was printed on the tab of the file folder. The front bore the seal for the Prescott Behavioral Hospital.

“Link?” Jen said as she put the folder on the desk. Her fingers froze above the tab. Did she want to know more about Link than he was willing to divulge?

She heard a groan from the ceiling above - Jen flinched. Just the old, worn-out building.

Jen looked back at the folder. “Sorry, Link,” she whispered. She opened it.

It was, in fact, some kind of hospital record. A long history of Link’s therapies, psychiatrists, admissions into the facility, and prescribed medications - nearly a decade’s worth. Jen saw the words “SSRI” and “depression” repeated numerous times, among names of prescriptions she wasn’t going to attempt to pronounce out loud. But she did notice a pattern: Nearly every drug that was prescribed either didn’t work or worsened his condition.

Jen was just about to close the folder, but her eyes lingered on the last page of his record.

 

> (2014 - present) W. Daniel Graham, MD
> 
> Fuquay-Varina Psychiatry
> 
> Referred to after potential suicide risk (12/13/14)
> 
> \---
> 
> Prescribed Medication(s):
> 
> Quetiapine (4/07/15 - present)
> 
> _ 10 mg, twice daily _
> 
> _ Patient’s behavior much improved, but still requires regular emotional therapy _ _. _

 

“Oh, Link,” Jen said to herself. Her heart ached.

“ _ Help! _ ” A light knocking on something metal echoed behind Jen. “ _ Someone there? _ ” someone whispered, their voice ragged at the edges.

Jen spun around, heart racing.

She heard light metal knocking again and caught a glimmer of gold from the other side of the office. A wall grate next to a dilapidated armchair shook with every knock she heard. Jen took a step closer and crouched. A few fingertips gripped the spaces from the other side. And she saw a glimpse of thin, light brown curls and freckles.

Jen gasped. “Candace?”

“ _ Yes!  _ ” she whispered. “ _ Help a sister out and let me in? _ ”

 

* * *

 

“NO!” Stevie screamed. “Don’t do it!” She nearly leapt out of her restraints.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Rhett said. He closed his eyes. He could feel the gunpoint poke his jaw.

“That’s the understatement of the  _ year _ !”

“It doesn’t feel like I have a choice.”

Stevie leaned as far forward as she could against her restraints. “It’s not fair! You don’t have to do this -  _ no one  _ should have to do something  _ crazy  _ like this.” She shook her head and glanced at the saw above her. “If anyone should be shot, it’s me.”

Rhett opened his eyes and looked at her. “You’re not volunteering to be  _ shot _ ,” he shouted.

“We’re  _ both  _ gonna be sliced timber!”

Rhett thought about it. “No...”

He put down the handgun.

“ _ No one’s  _ getting shot,” Rhett shouted. “No one’s going to die. This is ridiculous.”

The saws lowered and lowered, now a foot away from the hair on their heads. Rhett waited.

 

* * *

 

“Holy...frick.” Jen took Candace’s hand and literally pulled her inside. Because the poor girl looked like she couldn’t take another step with those blistered feet. “What happened to you?”

By divine intervention, she found a backdoor behind the counter that Candace was able to enter from outside. They hugged, from the cold and from the horrors they both witnessed.

“I found Jess and Christy,” Candace whispered. She hugged Jen tighter.

Jen’s eyes widened, then closed shut. “Were they…?”

“Yes. Someone buried them, with markers and everything.”

Jen sighed and let go of Candace to look at her. She looked like she’d been spit out of a chimney. “Where’s Chase?”

Candace bit her lip and hugged herself. “I don’t know,” she whimpered. “We were in the guest cabin like Link said, and it was really great and whatever, but… god, where do I begin?”

She tried her best to recount the literal leaps and bounds she had to do in her attempt to stay with Chase; the mines; the flamethrower ‘survivalizer’ guy; the weird scrapbook with the miners.

And the monster.

“I’m pretty sure he’s the one that buried Jess and Christy,” Candace said, gulping, “but I don’t know what in the...actual underworld kind of creature I saw down there…” She turned to glance behind her, but she winced and grabbed her shoulder. “Ffff—I forgot about  _ this _ right here. Fuck adrenaline.”

“Oh my gosh,” Jen gasped. How did she not notice her shoulder? The wound was raw as a rare steak. “We need to wrap something around that.”

“It’s but a flesh wound.”

“Seriously.” Jen looked at her sternly. “Looks like you got mauled by a vicious dog, we need to treat it.” Jen walked with Candace, resting a hand on her un-wounded shoulder. “Somehow.” There didn’t seem to be anything that looked like a first aid kit lying around.

“That was no dog that bit me.” Candace glanced at their feet. “This basement is more run-down than I thought it’d be. Did it literally scare your socks off?”

Jen spun around. She took Candace’s hands and held them, looking her in the eye. “Candace,” she said calmly. “You have to believe me when I say this.”

The freckled girl stared at her. “At this point I’ll believe anything.”

Jen nodded. She held up their hands. “There’s been a masked killer prowling around the lodge. He lured me from my bath and chased me all the way down here before I could change my clothes, let alone put on socks.”

Candace continued to stare at Jen. “This place is cursed,” Candace whispered. She blinked and looked away as if she just remembered something, then looked back at Jen. “Like literally, it might be cursed. That would make sense.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jen said. She squeezed Candace’s hands. “Candace. He killed Link.”

Candace paled. “No—!”

“Or at least I think he did.” Jen gulped dryly. She let go of Candace’s hands and took out the phone she found to check the time. “Yikes, it’s already after 4. When did you say you bumped into that guy in the mines?”

“Uhh, I don’t know. Maybe a little after midnight, it felt like. He was still in the mines when I left there. Why?”

Jen kept looking at the phone’s screen. At the picture of Fish Creek Park. “Just wondering,” she said. “I haven’t seen Rhett or—”

A bloody murderous, high-pitched scream pierced their ears from a room next door.

“Shitsnacks!” Candace recoiled. “I was wondering where that girl was.”

“We have to go!” Jen grabbed her hand and started running. Their bare feet slapped the cold floor in their sprint. “That has to be them!”

“Jeez, where the hell are we?” Candace looked all around them as they ran. This was not the basement she thought it was.

They went through the one-hinged door, into a pitch black corridor, with only floating ambient shades of white from two other rooms that bore light. A crescendoing roar and sounds of grating metal were coming from the brighter source of light. Then silence. 

 

* * *

 

_ 4:54 A.M. - The Old Hotel, Kitchen _

  
  


The roar stopped. The saws stopped. Time stopped.

Stevie’s scream kept ringing in Rhett’s ears. His eyes remained closed. If the hairs on his scalp could attest, his head was still intact. “Stevie, it’s okay,” he said.

He heard her breathing - heavy and rushed. “No it’s not.” Her voice was audible but sounded small and afraid, as if huddled in a corner.

Rhett opened his eyes. Behind the halogen lights was an approaching figure. Tall in stature, calculated in his steps, the masked madman traipsed into view. A cocky confidence radiated from the way he held his masked head chin-up and shifted his weight onto his right foot where he stood. He stood there, a few yards away from the table.

“ _ Very well, very well, _ ” he said. “ _ I see you’re playing hard to get. _ ”

Rhett grabbed the gun and aimed it right at the skull mask.

The masked man didn’t move. He only laughed. “ _ I’d like to see you tr— _ ”

_ BAM! _

“WAIT!” Jen’s voice echoed from somewhere behind Rhett.

But Rhett didn’t look back. He saw a bright pink splotch of paint splattered on the masked man’s overalls. The masked man had grabbed himself where he was shot, but it only made him laugh some more, in a sickeningly sadistic chuckle. “ _ Oh, Rhett, _ ” he practically moaned. “ _ That hurt. I’m sensitive to bright colors. _ ”

Rhett tilted his head. His brow hurt from creasing it so much. “What is wrong with you?” He looked back at the gun and saw residue of the same pink paint. 

Jen and Candace had run in and stopped at the table. Stevie turned to see Candace attempting to untie her from the chair without being prompted.

Jen rested a shoulder on a restless Rhett. He didn’t even realize he was fighting against his ropes.

The masked man had to force a sigh to stop laughing. “ _ Aw well. I guess the party’s over. Back to being the good host, then. _ ”

His gloved hands reached for the sides of his skull mask. The mossy, jet black hairs were pulled over his face, a last layer of his mask before it was pulled away, revealing a most familiar face—of dark, short hair, piercing blue eyes like a glistening river, and the smuggest, shit-eating grin framed by a goatee.

Rhett clutched the edges of his chair. “Link?”


	9. Cry for Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Just wanted to say thank you very, very much to those of you who have been keeping up with this fic. As mentioned before, this is a real labor of love / crazy idea that I've always wanted to do, and now it's actually almost done! There's two more chapters after this one, and I'm hoping to post the last chapter in time for Halloween. So sit tight, and enjoy the rest of this crazy ride.

 

_5:02 A.M. - North West Mines_

  


Chase woke up and coughed.

It was dark. The air was thick in his lungs. He rolled over to his side and felt nothing but cold, rigid metal against his sore ribs. He kept coughing until he felt more awake.

 _What the heck happened?_ Chase thought. He looked around him, his eyes more adjusted now; he was in some kind of elevator shaft. An elevator inside a cave, _that_ was new. The cave was a warm yellow, almost orange from some kind of light source a ways from him.

He wanted to move, but his whole body felt like it’d been hit against a wall. He touched his face and winced; there was a cut still fresh over his eyebrow. He glanced at himself and noticed his ripped and stained clothing and lack of shoes. He’d kicked off his boots when he was at the guest cabin with—

 _Candace_.

Chase hurriedly got up - but it probably looked more like a drunkard’s attempt. He needed to find her. He needed to get out of here. Wherever “here” was.

“Here” had some discarded industrial boots lying right outside the elevator shaft. Chase hobbled over and put those on. Not quite a perfect fit, but they’d have to do. Must’ve belonged to someone that worked here.

There was a passage leading to an opening to the outside snow maybe twenty yards away. Against each side of the cave’s tunnel had some wood panels leading to niches big enough for maybe five people at most. Chase slowly made his way there. He could run if he wanted to, but his sore ribs made him take caution.

Something echoed in the cave. It sounded similar to his boots scuffing the dirt beneath him, but quicker. Like scurrying. He almost didn’t notice.

Chase shuffled forward. He hugged himself, hunching. It was cold, it was uncomfortable, and it was scary. The thought of being with Candace and possibly the rest of the guys was the only thing keeping him going.

He heard the scurrying again, but louder. From somewhere he couldn’t see. He couldn’t twist to see behind him without moving slowly. But he tried his best.

There was another tunnel he didn’t notice - one that, he guessed, went deeper into the cave. He saw a growing shadow of what looked like a giant spider, or a praying mantis with a human-shaped head. It kept changing...and moving closer. It looked more and more like an exaggerated human, but something about it seemed more predatory. Unnatural.

Chase rubbed his eyes. _What is that…?_

A shriek that he could feel in his chest filled the whole cave. Like an enraged raptor mixed with a human’s wail of agony.

Chase yelped. He immediately hobbled toward a wood-paneled niche. Then he dropped to his butt and waited.

He hugged himself tight. He had to be dreaming, or hallucinating. He heard echoes of dirt being moved, little rocks falling in someone’s—something’s—wake. There was a guttural sound, almost growling. It sounded close. Coming closer. Behind the wall Chase sat against. He stayed still.

Chase laid his head down and waited. He shut his eyes.

He imagined the fireplace at the guest cabin. The antique couch. The warmth of another body. It helped him gradually stop the shivering that he didn’t notice until it stopped.

The noises had subsided. His hand dug into one of his pants pockets and pulled out his phone. It had 2 bars of reception. But he was going to try contacting her anyway.

He typed a simple message for Candace. But right before his thumb hit send, he thought better of it. That girl never could keep her phone charged. Maybe it’d be better to send a group text.

> HELP. idk where i am… gonna head back to lodge

He rose and check if the coast was clear. Chase sighed. Time to make a beeline out of here.

Chase could walk faster now, but he wasn’t going to push it unless he really had to. He made it to the clearing, a cliffside that held a surprisingly gorgeous view of the lodge, some distance away from where he stood. He stepped closer to the edge and could see a feasible path down that wouldn’t totally kill him.

_SCRRREEEEEEEEE!!!!_

But whatever made that noise just now might kill him first.

 

* * *

 

_5:05 A.M. - The Old Hotel, Kitchen_

  


Link kept laughing. Laughing his ass off. As if he’d heard the best, dirtiest joke ever told. He had to wipe a tear from his eyes, he laughed so hard.

“Oh, come on guys, lighten up!” He held up his hands. “That was a nice, fun little prank, wasn’t it? Get a little rush of blood in your veins, huh? A big ol’ laugh from getting the shit scared outta ya? Oh man, it was so fun orchestrating this whole production - I’m sure you can relate, Stevie, but this was hella more involved. Oh, the gore, and the ghosts, and the drama, it was worth it! Every detail, a little bit of a masterpiece. And you. All. Fell for it. Every last stinkin’ bit.”

“None of us are laughing, Link,” Rhett shouted. “I could actually punch you right now.”

His stare turned frighteningly cold in a blink of an eye.

“Were you mortified? Terrorized? Utterly vulnerable? Confused out of your _mind?_ Huh? The same emotions they experienced that night—” His voice wavered. “Well, you guys get to laugh it off, but nope! Not them! You just got a little _taste!_ Not even a cheese cube’s worth of the horror they went through!”

“Newsflash—Christy was _my_ sister, and you don’t see me tying anyone up to a saw rig.”

Link sneered. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Rhett felt a blood vessel pop. “I _DON’T_ UNDERSTAND! Why are you doing this?!”

“Does he even need a reason at this point?” Stevie said. “This whole ordeal is insane.”

“Oh. _You_.” Link pointed at Stevie and stalked toward her. “You have no right to say anything. You know how easy it was to find that picture on your phone? Maybe you should put a lock on that.”

Stevie’s jaw dropped. “Maybe you should put a lock on your dick.”

“Stevie!” Jen chimed.

“He’s off his rocker!”

“Or off his meds,” Rhett said.

Link bent over laughing out loud. “Puhleeze. At least all your squeamish, priceless reactions will be immortalized in the halls of the internet. I’m surprised none of you noticed any of my hidden cameras.”

“Link,” Stevie said, “don’t take this the wrong way, but no one in this room gives a rat’s ass about your ‘master plan’ at this point.” She drew air quotes that were sharper than the saw blades overhead.

“Or a cockroach’s ass,” Link said, eyeing Jen.

Jen stared. Her hand dug in her back pocket, where she still had Link’s phone.

“What are you _talking_ about?” Rhett shouted. He felt so empty. He had no idea who this guy was dressed up as Link and laughing bitterly in front of him and everyone in the room right now. He raked a hand over his hair. “You planned on posting all of this on Youtube or something? And then what?” He licked his dry lips. “Expect us to pretend this was funny? That we weren’t fearing for our lives? I thought you _died_!”

“Link,” Jen implored. She took out a phone from her pocket. “You know this isn’t right. This is _clearly_ a cry for help.”

Rhett saw the phone in Jen’s hand and took it. He remembered Link insisting to stop and take that picture in the park. His eyes started to sting with threatening tears while Jen’s hands slowly tried to unwrap his ropes.

Link gave Jen an overly skeptical look. “Oh, boohoo, look at me,” he said, “I need so much help!”

Candace spotted the corpse-dummy in Jen’s clothes. “Clearly,” Candace said.

“I don’t need it,” Link nearly growled. “Revenge is better than _any_ medicine I’ve ever been prescribed,” he said with his infamous grin.

Rhett felt the ropes fall away. He could move now. He could give Link a piece of his mind.

Candace stepped toward Link. “Hey. I’m not tolerating this _Saw_ BS you’re pulling on everyone right now, cuz _right_ now, Chase is—” She stopped herself. “Chase is missing.”

Link’s facade fell from his face. “What?”

“Yeah. Some freaky-ass animal up and clawed Chase and threw him down the mines—do you even know about the mines? Maybe you should go down there yourself. While you’re running around after Jen in her bath towel, Chase is fighting for his _life_ right now. He might be dead!”

Link’s mouth hung open. “But I had nothing to do with him.”

“You better not!” She stomped forward

Link slowly stepped backward. “Stop it, I didn’t!”

Rhett stood up. “ _You_ need to stop.”

Link glanced at Rhett with a sad, wide-eyed stare. “ _I’m_ not doing anything!”

Candace suddenly raised her arms, her chin jutted forward. “I’m not the one who’s been torturing his friends all night!”

“Stop—!”

Stevie threw off her ropes and went to stand behind Candace. “You’ve caused so much idiotic damage.”

Rhett noticed Link backing away slowly. “Link—”

“Shut up!”

Rhett’s heart sank. “Just. Come on, buddy. We can figure things out—”

Candace shouted, “You might as well have pushed Chase down there yoursel—”

“I SAID STOP!” Link’s lunged for Candace.

Rhett bolted toward him - he moved so fast, he wasn’t thinking. He’d never seen Link lash out like that before. But he was filled with regret as soon as his fist connected with Link’s jaw.

Link was out cold.

Rhett stood there with his fist out. The weight of everyone else’s eyes weighed on him like a ton of bricks.

“Crap.”

 

* * *

 

_5:41 A.M. - Blackwood Pines_

  


“If you don’t have the guts to do it, then I will.” Stevie swung her baseball bat in front of her to rest it on her other shoulder.

Rhett followed close next to her. The sky had started to turn a dark shade of violet. The air was still and thick with cold and the anticipation of morning. He shook his head; this was all still surreal. Tonight’s events seemed to be coming to a close. But they weren’t done just yet. Anger and confusion were the only things grounding Rhett in the moment.

Stevie shoved a restrained Link forward in the show. “Move it!”

“Oww!” Link stumbled forward. His nose could’ve hit the snow. It was already hard to walk with his hands tied behind his back with leftover rope. “Are we there yet, mommm?” he whined.

“Ew.” Stevie poked him with the end of the bat, eliciting another yelp from Link. “We’re almost to the shed—where _you’ll_ be staying. Until we can call the cops on you, no thanks to you re-plugging in the phone lines.” She shoved him again with the bat spitefully.

“Hey, hey stop! Can’t we agree...violence isn’t the answer?” His grin crept in his voice.

Rhett grabbed Link’s arm—tight.

Link stumbled again. “Owww—I’m not even using that hand right now! Why you gotta be so meeean, Rhett?”

“How the hell’d you learn to punch like that? You’ve _never_ knocked me out before.”

“Don’t encourage him.” Stevie patted the bat against her hand.

Link side-eyed Rhett. “I’ve knocked you out a few times before.” His teeth gleamed in an unsettling smile. “Just not with my fist.”

Rhett shoved him away.

“Oww, not you too, bo!”

“Don’t talk to me.” Rhett kept his distance. “And I’m not your bo.”

“Oooh, Rhett, don’t break my heart like that,” Link whined. “Why can’t we be friends, why can’t we be friends...friends, _Friends_ like the TV show. It was so overrated...just like everyone, everyone is so overrated, everyone, everybody, everybody wants to rule the world...” He started to talk to himself incoherently, on and on, with no direction in his fragmented thoughts.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Stevie uttered. “You know what he’s talking about?”

“...the world is a vampire—vampires? No, no, that’d be too cheesy, it’d have to be realistic, like a serial killer— _Scream!_ Scream, scream, scream, scream, scream, yes, they’d screeeam—”

Rhett slowly shook his head; he was at a loss for words.

“He’s completely lost it,” Stevie said.

Rhett kept watching Link in his babbling state from a distance. The three of them approached the shed behind the lodge. The pig’s head was still there, but it had been toppled over, ripped from the stake, and apparently, been bitten out of in a rather sloppy manner.

“Jeez,” Stevie grimaced. “Some kind of last sick detail you planned there?”

Link spotted the head and nearly jumped out of his overalls. “I didn’t do that!” He fell onto his shoulder. “Ow, crap—seriously, I didn’t do that!”

“Yeah, yeah, cry wolf, whatever.” Stevie grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him forward.

Rhett squinted at the pig’s head. “Could you be a little gentler with him, Steve?”

They stepped inside the shed. The front room was barely brighter with the incoming light. Stevie shoved Link against a wooden column with a loud THUD.

“OW, what is wrong with you, demon woman!?” Link yelled.

“Be gentler?” Stevie turned to Rhett; she pointed the baseball bat at Link. “This a-hole deserves every bit that’s coming to him. I am covered in _pig’s blood_ because of him.”

Link giggled to himself. “I don’t think this a-hole is as durable as you think.” He lowered his head to look up at Stevie. “I’m very fragile.”

“Link, shut up,” Rhett said.

Link lunged for him.

“NO.” Stevie shoved him against the wooden column and down on the floor on his knees. “You’re not moving another fucking muscle. Rhett, help me with this.”

Link was livid. His eyes could’ve set the shed ablaze.

“Oh, yes, Rhett,” he said with bitterness dripping thick, “why don’t you help Stevie out. Y’know. The one that kinda screwed us over last year with that photo she took. Go ahead and trust HER over ME. OKAY. I see how it is.”

“Man, shut up.” Rhett looked at his handiwork of Link’s rope now tied around the column. “I don’t know if I _can_ trust you anymore.”

“Huh? Oh yeah?” Link snarled. But his brow creased despondently, hopelessly upward the way only Link could. “It’s just like what ol’ California said back there: If no one was gonna do something, then _I_ would. If I didn’t create this little haunted chainsaw massacre, you’d never know the truth—you never would’ve seen the sides of you that you were never willing to admit. I did you guys a favor.”

“You manipulated me, that’s what!” Rhett got in Link’s face. “You manipulated all of us! You could’ve told me—you could’ve _talked_ to me.”

“No, I couldn’t, you boneheaded, self-righteous son of a—”

Stevie pushed Rhett aside and swung back the baseball bat. “What will it take for you to shut up?” She stood in batting stance.

Rhett nearly froze up. Link’s head was in perfect position for a T-ball swing from Stevie.

He snatched the bat away from Stevie.

“Hey!” Stevie protested. “I wasn’t actually going to hit him, jeez.”

Link giggled. “You guys are pathetic.”

It was Rhett’s turn to point the bat at Link.

“Whoa now, your eyes are buggin’ out more than they usually do,” Link laughed.

Stevie facepalmed. “Don’t humor him anymore.”

Rhett continued to look at him. He squinted.

Link held his stare, as if defiantly. But the dark-haired boy’s cocky, toothy smile slowly began to fade, until the only intensity left on his face was in his eyes. They were searching, trying to probe what Rhett was feeling.

“Think you can keep an eye on him till we can get out of here?” Stevie asked. “I’m gonna head back and check with the others.”

Rhett nodded. “Yeah, we should be fine till morning at least.”

Stevie gave a casual salute. “Knock some sense into him.” And with that, she left the shed.

Rhett stood there with the baseball bat, with Link hunched on the floor, tied to a post like a prisoner. Everything looked stagnant in the shed. Link’s defeated figure blended with the shades of faded color in the room.

“Go ahead,” Link suddenly said. He looked up. “Knock some sense into me.”

 

* * *

 

“ _911, what’s your emergency?_ ” a nasal but motherly voice answered. She reminded Jen of Lorhetta from the public radio station.

Jen stiffly held the kitchen phone to her ear. Candace was in the den area nursing a new cup of coffee. Stevie would be back any minute.

“Yes,” Jen uttered. “My name’s Jen, and I’m here with my friends in Blackwood Pines—”

“ _Oh, Neal Mountain? What are you guys doing there this time of—?_ ”

“There’s—our friend, Link, invited us to his house - his winter lodge, and he—” Words were escaping her. “—he basically pranked us to the point of making all of us thinking we were gonna die. He even faked his own death, but he was pretending to be—some kind of killer, I don’t know?”

“ _Ahhh, okay, okay…_ ” She imagined the lady nodding to herself. “ _What exactly did he do?_ ”

Jen checked over her shoulder. Candace was still alone on the couch, with a wool throw draped over her shoulders. “He—he, uh,” Jen stammered. “Y’know what, I can’t even…describe it.” Jen winced.

“ _Try your best, dear._ ”

“There—there was lots of blood, and saws, and a fake gun, and—ma’am, can you send some people out here as soon as possible? He’s a threat to himself more than us, and he hasn’t taken his meds—”

“ _Calm down, dear, it’ll be okay, he’ll be okay—_ ”

“I wish I could tell him that.” Jen hugged herself.

“ _Sweetheart? I can get some patrolmen over there—but—”_ The connection became filled with static for a brief moment.

“Ma’am?” Jen gasped. “Can you hear me?”

“ _—s, dear, I said we can send some people there, but it won’t be until dawn._ ”

“Dawn?” Jen turned her head this way and that to find the nearest window. It was the darkest shade of blue outside, not even. Dawn wouldn’t be for another hour at least. Winters were so dark for so long, mornings were nearly a myth.

“Jen!” Candace called from the other room. “I think I heard your phone upstairs. You got a text! Can you also bring down your charger when you’re done?”

 

* * *

 

He watched the kid.

That poor kid. He ran as fast as he could. The world’s fastest limp. Like a wounded rabbit, limping, hopping swiftly through the snow and trees. The kid kept looking back, checking to see if the horizon was clear. Those boots he was wearing were clearly taken from the mines.

A distant shrill echoed.

He adjusted his grip on his flamethrower. To the untrained ear, it would’ve sounded like a rooster jumping the gun before sunrise. But that monster had the nerve to be running around at this time. As long as it was night.

 _Don’t look back, kid,_ he thought.

  


* * *

 

Link stared at the bat.

“Come on,” he raised his voice. “You gonna keep listening to Stevie? Then do it.”

Rhett held the baseball bat in both hands now. He wanted to hit him. He had a strong, strong enough urge to hit him. For real this time. After all the shenanigans he pulled tonight.

Rhett dropped the bat.

The wooden clatter startled Link. His eyes stayed glued to the bat on the floor.

“Stop messing with me, man,” Link cried. He bowed his head, hiding his face. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

Rhett kicked the bat aside, crouched down, and sat down in front of Link. He sat close enough so Link filled his vision and everything else could fall away in his peripheral.

Link shrank away.

“Look at me,” Rhett said.

“No,” Link whimpered.

Rhett grabbed Link by the face. Some stubble and shorter facial hairs pierced his grip. A firm grip to hold him closer. His fingers cupping little clumps of Link’s cheek in one hand.

Link had scrunched his eyes closed.

“Look at me, Link. Please.”

The lines in Link’s face gradually went away. His eyelashes flitted open, revealing a pair of frightened, confused baby blues. There was apprehension in his eyes, an anticipation of possible punishment. A slap. A fist.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Rhett said.

The apprehension in Link’s eyes remained. “You already have.”

“What?” Rhett felt punched in the gut. “You hurt _me_. I don’t know if I should even trust you anymore. Look at everything you’ve done tonight. Not to mention our earlier...chat. Man.” Rhett let him go. He looked away and shook his head slowly. “You said all that with a straight face. Knowing what you were gonna do this whole time.”

“But I meant it. Every word.” Link’s shoulders lowered. His eyes darted like a cat’s to different corners of the room, like something had stolen his attention.

Rhett touched Link’s shoulder. “What? What’s the matter?”

Link snapped out of it. He scrunched his eyes shut again. “I keep seeing things. They need to go away.”

“You need to take your meds, Link,” Rhett said. He started rubbing his shoulder.

Link flinched away. “Don’t touch me.”

Rhett’s heart kept breaking.

“I’m so…” Link’s body tensed up again. “I’m so mad!” he yelled. “I screwed things up. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t keep my hands away from you… Our relationship was screwed from the start.” His face was pained. “And Jess... I miss Jess so much.”

Rhett scooted closer. “Me too,” he whispered.

Link shook his head madly. “They’re gone. All because of me.”

“Don’t say that. You gotta stop beating yourself up.”

“But it’s true. It’s true, and you know it.”

“No,” Rhett said firmly. He bit his dry bottom lip. “No, it’s not true at all.”

Link shrank into a ball, bowed before Rhett.

“Link?” Rhett reached for him.

“Stop. Stop echoing.” He trembled. “Your voice is echoing, man.”

Rhett took Link and enveloped him in his arms. “I’m right here.”

Link whimpered into the crook of Rhett’s neck. Rhett held him tight, cradling Link’s head against him. The winter cold continued to creep into the shed. Shivers ran through Link, making him cling to Rhett. Their warmth was sparse, but it was better than no warmth at all. Distant sounds of wood creaking with the occasional wind, or the whistling breeze itself, would make Link flinch and whimper. Rhett kept holding him.

“You’re absolutely right about one thing,” Rhett murmured.

“What?” Link gasped. His breath tickled Rhett’s skin.

“I can be boneheaded sometimes. I’ve definitely been boneheaded this past year. These past couple of years.” Rhett chuckled to himself. “It’s okay to cry, Link.”

Link shook his head, nuzzling the base of Rhett’s neck. “I’ll die before I cry in front of you.”

They shared a soft laugh. Link’s breath was warm. Rhett could feel their bodies thawing, melting together.

“Link…” he whispered.

Link hummed into his collarbone. “Mmm?”

His tongue parted his lips. The words were on the tip of his tongue. “I’m s—”

“ _HELLLLLLLLLLLLP!”_

The cry devolved into an indecipherable scream, somewhere farther away from the shed, but close enough to hear.

Rhett leapt to his feet. “Chase?”

A second, even fainter cry followed, but it didn’t sound like Chase.

“Rhett?” Link yelped.

Rhett picked up the bat off the floor. The only other time he’d heard anything like that scream was when Chase nearly fell down the stairs one time on campus. Poor Chase. Who knew someone so quiet could scream so loud.

Rhett had to look a despondent Link in the eye. His whole body seemed to droop against the wooden column.

 _Crap_ , Rhett thought.

“No—” Link leaned forward. His ropes yanked him back. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” Rhett urged.

“I can’t—” Link started to stammer. “I can’t be alone right now.”

“You’re not alone, Link.” Rhett stepped to the door and peeked through the crack. The coast seemed clear. He turned back to look at Link. “But I need to make sure Chase is okay - you heard him screaming, right? He might need me.”

“But _I_ need you right now,” Link shouted.

Rhett froze. He was nearly out the door. He felt a warmth spread in his chest, pumping with his heart. He wanted to stay.

“I’m sorry, Link.”

Out in the snow, back in the unforgiving cold, Rhett ran. Chase’s screams seemed to be coming in the same direction as the lodge. Rhett kept running.

But he could still faintly hear Link shouting for him from the shed. He winced.

 

* * *

 

Stevie vaguely heard a shriek from the woods. She shrugged. Probably a coyote.

She brushed the snow off her boots at the door. Even her boots were splattered in pig’s blood.

“Jen just called the police,” Candace called from the living area. “But they won’t be here til daybreak.”

Stevie marched over and sat a safe distance from Candace on the couch. “I guess that’s better than nothing,” Stevie sighed. She looked over to Candace: the girl looked like an old vacuum cleaner with teeth ate her up and spat her out. “What happened to you?”

Candace glanced at Stevie from head to toe. “Something different but just as horrible as whatever happened to you.” She tilted her head. “Maybe worse. You didn’t get bitten by an actual monster in a mineshaft, did you?”

Stevie blinked. “I’m sorry, what did you say? A monster? You sure it wasn’t a horny wolverine?”

Candace’s mouth flattened. “Forget it. We’re going to get out of here soon anyway.” She curled into a ball on the couch with her cup of coffee. Her arm gingerly wrapped around her legs; her shoulder still ached. “If you’re gonna keep being a bitch around me, then get off the couch.”

Stevie’s jaw went slack. Her hands stayed still on her knees. She turned away and stared at the blood on her boots in pensive silence. “Candace?” she said after a while.

Candace didn’t flinch. “What?”

Stevie’s mouth stayed open, but she didn’t speak. “Do you...wanna try hanging out sometime, after all this boils over?”

The brunette slowly turned to face Stevie. “Maybe.”

They heard Jen shuffle down the many steps of the main staircase. “Guys!” her voiced echoed. “Candace! It was Chase! Chase texted everyone!” She held out her phone and her phone charger to Candace. “He might be heading back here—”

Candace snatched Jen’s phone.

Stevie checked her phone. “Crap, he did text us.”

One look at the text was all Candace needed. “I need to go out there.” She pushed herself off the couch, her mug clanging on the coffee table.

“Uh, _no_.” Stevie grabbed Candace’s wrist. “We don’t need another girl disappearing in the woods.”

Candace was yanked back by her bad arm—excruciating pain shot through her shoulder. Without thinking, she shook off Stevie’s grip.

And slapped her in the face.

“There.” Candace rubbed her slapping hand. “Now we can hang out.”

Stevie rubbed her own stinging cheek. “Fair enough.”

_BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!_

“Open the door!!! PLEEEASE!”

Candace sprinted toward the banging sound against the back door. It was so loud they could hear it from where they were. The cathedral-like corridors and dark shadows of the lodge didn’t phase Candace anymore as she made her way to past the study room to the back door. Her shoulder protested, but she jerked the knob open.

Chase nearly collapsed on her. “SHUT THE DOOR, SHUT THE DOOR!” He scrambled, slipping on all fours, just to get inside.

Stevie and Jen followed Candace. They screeched to a halt.

“Dude,” Stevie uttered.

“Are you okay?” Jen helped up Chase from the floor.

Chase’s eyes were filled to the brim with fear. They refused to close shut, like they didn’t want to see what would appear behind their eyelids. He immediately went over to Candace and took her in his arms.

“Not really,” he said softly.

Candace squeezed him back.

“I’m almost 90% sure Link just scared the shit out of all of us tonight,” Stevie said, crossing her arms. “What kind of ‘freaky-ass’ animal are we talking about here, Candace?”

Chase and Candace looked at each other. The haunted gaze returned on Chase’s face.

“You saw it, too?” Candace asked.

Chase nodded slowly. His eyes spotted the bite on her shoulder. He stepped back from her.

“Oh my god, it bit you.”

“ _What_ bit her?” Jen asked.

“I-I- I don’t know what it is, what they are,” Chase struggled to speak. “They’re like these, gangly zombies with- with razor sharp teeth and these, _eyes_ that are just— _dead_. And, they’re all apparently living down in the mines?”

Stevie furrowed her brow. “No… Link’s been terrorizing us with his stupid prank all night.”

“Dude, shut up and listen to him,” Candace retorted.

There was a hard knocking on the front door.

“That must be Rhett.” Jen rushed over.

Stevie looked over at Chase and Candace: the boy was still staring at Candace’s wounded shoulder like it would mutate into something worse.

“Why don’t we go back to the couch, guys?” Stevie said feebly. “You can tell me more over there...”

Jen stopped.

There was a large shadowed figure through the glass panels of the front door. It must’ve been Rhett since it looked so tall, Jen assumed, but there must be something or someone with him... Was it Link? She slowly approached the front door with newfound caution.

The figure didn’t move.

Her hand wrapped around the knob. Still nothing. Jen gulped. The masked man—Link—was gone. There shouldn’t be anymore threats tonight. Her small shred of faith made her eventually open the door. Just a crack.

“ _Jeezus_ , girl, could ya let us in?” A thick drawl of an accent yelled at her.

Jen peeked through: Rhett met her gaze, his green eyes apologetic. But that voice definitely wasn’t Rhett’s.

“It’s ok—” Rhett uttered, before he was forcibly pushed through the door.

“Whoa!” Jen side-stepped out of the way.

The stranger entered the lodge with heavy-booted feet. He carried some kind of gun attached to a metal tank strapped on his back. His prominent horseshoe moustache matched the permanent scowl on his face. His stetson hat nearly stole the show, but his eyes were the most striking thing about him. They were shiny and blue, almost like Link’s.

Stevie, Candace, and Chase had come over to the foyer, overhearing the commotion.

“Who are _you_?” Stevie asked.

Candace pointed at him. “You’re alive!”

Everyone else looked at Candace. “You _know_ him?” Rhett craned his neck.

The stranger fleetingly smirked. “Every one of y’all should take a seat.” Then he scowled at them again. “Cuz I’ve got something to tell y’all that you won’t believe. But you don’t have a choice.”

“Apparently,” Rhett shrugged. “He bumped into me outside and insisted he come in.”

The stranger looked at Rhett like the boy was pickled liver. “You’re in grave, grave danger, boy.”

 

* * *

 

No one wanted to say anything.

Rhett started pacing the floor. Stevie crossed her arms with the face rivaling that of a disgruntled cat. Jen, Chase, and Candace sat glued, petrified to the couch. The whole room had turned into an icy coffin after the stranger with a flamethrower gun finished speaking.

“Soooo,” Jen said. She raised her brows. “Wendigos.”

Rhett frowned. “I still can’t believe it.”

“You _better_ believe it.” The stranger gestured his flamethrower gun at him. “This mountain _is_ cursed. Like I said, I’ve seen it firsthand. Once the moon rises, the woods become infested with these damned creatures. Their hunger for flesh is never satisfied. The only surefire way to survive is to hide indoors and pray until morning. Unless you’re crazy enough to try and hunt them.” He smirked. “Like me.”

“None of us here have that kind of firepower right now,” Chase said. “No pun intended.”

“Well,” the stranger, who’d still forgone introducing himself, heaved a sigh, “if you’re ever unfortunate enough to be in a wendigo’s vicinity, you don’t move a freaking muscle. You git stone still. Period. They see through movement. If you don’t move, you don’t exist.” He shrugged again. “If all else fails, and you don’t have fire or flame, then ya either run and hide again or chop their damn heads off. I’m serious.”

He stuck one of his hands inside his long coat and took out a small, leather-bound journal.

“Here.” He tossed the journal to Jen. “Do some homework and _read_. It’ll save a life. There’s more info in there on the spirit of the wendigo. Among other things.”

Rhett stopped pacing. “What about sound?”

“Whassat?” The stranger leaned closer.

“Can they hear their prey?” Rhett asked with urgency.

“Oh! As sharp as a knife,” the stranger said. “They hear a cock crow in the night, and they can track it down where it’s roosting, scare it into movin’, then go for the kill.”

Rhett’s color drained from his face. “I left Link alone in the shed.”

Everyone else turned to look at Rhett.

“I knew I shouldn’t’ve done that.” Rhett slapped his forehead. “I _knew_ it!”

“He should be fine…” Stevie said, with less conviction than Rhett expected.

“Why is he in the shed right now?” Chase asked in a panic.

“They tied him up there,” Jen said disapprovingly.

The stranger gave Rhett and incredulous look. “That Neal kid, huh?” He scratched at his chin. “He’s probably most likely dead,” he nodded solemnly.

“Stop saying that!” Candace said.

“I’m not here to barf rainbows for you, missy! I’m here to help you _survive._ ”

Rhett stepped up to the stranger. “I have to go back to the shed.”

The stranger looked up at Rhett with a skeptically raised brow. “Do you wanna die?”

“If it means saving him, I would.” Rhett looked him dead in the eyes. “If there is even a hair’s chance I can make sure he stays alive, I’ll take it.”

The stranger stared him down for a few more moments.

Rhett stared back, unfazed.

“Well, kid, you just might be crazier than I thought.”

He stepped back, reached behind his back to fiddle with something, then pulled out a backpacker shotgun. "You're not going back alone, that's for sure." He started loading it nonchalantly with some ammo from his coat pocket, as if he hadn’t just pulled out a concealed weapon in front of a group of frightened, staring teenagers. “I like to keep this attached to my tank, just in case.” He held it in front of Rhett. “Think you can use it?”

Rhett blinked. “I’ve hunted crows before,” he said, shrugging.

The stranger puffed a laugh. “You must be crazy for this Neal kid.”


	10. L'appel du Vide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! It looks like this chapter only is going to be published this month, and the last chapter will be published sometime next month. But that’s okay; it works out better that way. This chapter’s extra spoopy. (and longer than usual) Enjoy...

 

_ 6:03 A.M. - The Shed _

  
  


The darkness was starting to swallow him.

Link looked left and right and all around him: his whole world was literally shrinking. The shed was closing in on him. His breaths became shallow, shallower. The cold was stabbing his chest, he couldn’t breathe without gasping, he couldn’t move. They freaking tied him so tight to this post,  _ why on earth would they do that, why did everyone leave me, I’m starting to hear them again, oh no not again— _

Link curled into himself, his nose pressed between his knees.

He needed Rhett. He needed Rhett so badly.

“ _ But we need you, Link. _ ”

Two voices—girls’ voices—echoed in his ears. As if they were standing on either side of him. They shouted straight into his ears:

“ _ We both needed you, Link. _ ”

“No!” he shouted. “Leave me alone!”

“ _ You could’ve stopped us. _ ”

“ _ You could’ve stopped  _ lying _ to us. _ ”

Link forced himself to lift his head and open his eyes. “You’re not...real…” he whimpered.

Two figures stood like pillars in front of him. Two girls. No, young women. They couldn’t be Jessie and Christy. Link knew that.

But they looked just like them. Their wide open eyes glowed in the darkness. And their bodies. They moved in disjointed, broken strides toward him. Their faces were distorted—rotted.

“ _ WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE US, LINK? _ ”

Link could barely breathe. He pushed himself as far back against the post as he could—his spine ached in protest. They were coming closer. But they weren’t real. But he could hear them still, stepping in the mulchy floor of the shed, dragging their dead feet closer and closer to him with no intent on stopping—

“You’re not real!!!” Link shouted, shutting his eyes.

“ _ WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE US? _ ”

Their voices morphed into a volley of shrieking that threatened to make his ears bleed. They started to sound less human, more monster. Link continued to dig his heels into the ground trying to push himself away from the noise in his head. The noise was unbearable.

“Rhett,” he whimpered. “Come back…please...”

Something grabbed him.

It felt like a giant claw—it grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him forward. With no effort, his ropes broke from the wooden post, and the post nearly snapped from the force. He was in the air now, feet dangling, gasping from fear.

His eyes couldn’t escape the sight in front of him.

It didn’t have a nose; only two stained slits where a nose should’ve been. It had clouded, opaque eyes in its gaunt face. Its skin sagged from its skull as if it had been decomposing for weeks, if not years. Link saw its other hand—its impossibly long, spindly fingers, the same that were clamped around him now. It bared its razor sharp teeth, crooked and packed together, already stained with what reeked like pig’s blood and rotting flesh. He was staring at the face of death itself.

 

* * *

 

Rhett gasped.

“That was Link.” He gripped his shotgun.

The stranger grunted in discontent. “Don’t be fooled, son. The wendigo know how to mimic all kinds of noises that’d lure a human. A loved one’s cry, for one.

Rhett stared ahead at the bleak horizon. “It sounded so much like him…”

They continued forward, back to the shed. Rhett was still wearing his coat and enough layers for a snowy stay, but he felt himself shaking. The stranger remained stone-faced in his stride; Rhett felt embarrassed. They were just going to fetch Link and bring him back home. Simple as that.

 

* * *

 

_ 6:17 A.M. - The Old Hotel, Backroom _

  
  


All they could do was wait. The authorities wouldn’t arrive for another half-hour at the earliest.

Jen sat cross-legged on the floor. She held the stranger’s journal close to her face; she squinted under the light of her phone. Candace and Chase sat huddled together silently in the chairs by the shelves.

“Huh,” Stevie said. Her figure stood hunched over the table behind the counter. “This map would’ve been helpful earlier.”

“Yeah?” Jen said without lifting her head.

“For serious.” Stevie turned around, giant, old map in hand, and laid it on the counter. “For one, there was a radio tower northeast of here we could’ve used… But I bet if Link already knew this, he probably tampered with  _ that _ connection too.”

“We’ll never know,” Jen shrugged.

“And I see the mines now… Huh. I can see how a pack of flesh-eating animals could easily live there...” Stevie’s voice trailed off. She tucked some falling hair behind her ear and leaned closer to the map. She squinted. It smelled strongly of musty paper, if the deep fold creases weren’t already an indicator of the map’s age. But she could deal with it. Something had caught her eye. 

“Those tunnels seemed endless,” Candace uttered. Her head rested on Chase’s shoulder so that her bad shoulder remained untouched. Her eyes stayed closed. “They could’ve gone on, and on. All the way to Toronto for all I care.”

Stevie glanced up to look at the two of them. “How’s that bite, by the way?”

“Sore as hell.”

Stevie squinted at her, then shifted to Jen. “Anything worth noting in that diary, Jen?”

Jen flipped a page. “Apparently, a wendigo bite is not contagious. It’s not how the curse works.” She looked up and tried to get everyone’s attention, but she simply raised her voice. “We’re in the innermost part of the basement technically, so we should all be safe here. Unless one of us decides to eat someone’s liver in here.”

“Halle-freaking-lujah.” Stevie felt her shoulders relax for the first time tonight. “That is one less thing I have to worry about.”

“Pffft.” Chase looked at Stevie skeptically. “It’s not like there was anything we could do if it  _ was _ contagious.” He gently massaged Candace’s side. “What were you gonna do,  _ shoot _ Candace?”

“With what, a fiery comeback?”

“Probably,” Candace uttered.

“Or your phone camera,” Jen said with a knowing look.

Stevie shot a look at Jen. “I take a picture  _ one  _ time…” She looked back at the map; she nearly forgot what had caught her attention in the first place. The mines started northwest from the lodge; the radio tower, northeast. To the west and southwest was the whole plot for the defunct Blackwood Sanitorium. The entrance was to their east, and the main hiking trails to their south…

There were lines connecting everything back to the lodge.

Stevie tapped her finger on one line in particular: it ran clearly, jagged but bold enough on the page, through the mines, through the sanitorium, and leading straight to the lodge, which was labeled as “Blackwood Hotel” but scratched out in ballpoint ink and written over with “LODGE”.

Stevie led her index finger to the map key and scoured it.

Her eyes widened.

“Guys.”

 

* * *

 

“We’re too late.” The stranger held an arm in front of Rhett’s marching figure.

“No...” Rhett felt his stomach turn.

The pig head was gone. The door was gone, too. Half the front of the shed looked shredded, scratched with giant claw marks. There were sporadic red streaks and grooves that would’ve been missed if Rhett wasn’t looking for them. Like something had been dragged through the snow.

Rhett shoved past the stranger’s arm. He had to make sure.

“Boy!” the stranger barked. “That thing’s long gone and dragged your friend home for dinner!”

Rhett shook his head. The wooden column had buckled and stood crookedly, still somehow attached to the ceiling. The ropes and the baseball bat were strewn about the dirty floor.

“No...” Rhett said, barely a whisper. “He’s gotta be out there.”

“It might be back for dessert…”

Rhett looked back, heart racing. The stranger had spun around and stood at the ready. He could smell the oil from the tank on the stranger’s back from where he was. Rhett put his finger on the trigger.

“Keep watch!” the stranger hissed. His blue eyes were piercing and scintillating in the dim morning light. “And for God’s sake, stop moving!”

Rhett halted next to the stranger. But he was ready. He felt a newfound vigor. He wanted blood now; almost as bad as he wanted to find Link. Those monsters were going to be blasted to bits.

“Come on, ya little shit!” the stranger yelled into the forested void.

Rhett whipped his head around to give him a bug-eyed stare.

But the stranger released the brightest stream of fire Rhett had ever been close to. He stumbled back from the sudden bite of heat and the stench of burning oil. The snow cushioned his fall, but Rhett struggled to get up from the shock.

He then heard agonized screeching. Like a dying animal. He could smell the pungent odor of burning flesh suddenly thrust itself into his nose. Rhett nearly gagged.

A large moving mass of fiery limbs danced in front of the stranger, no more than ten feet away from them. The nightmarish silhouette streaked with flames; it kept flailing its spidery arms until the whole mass crumpled in a black clump, still blazing with flames.

Now Rhett gagged. He turned away, hunched over, nose pressed to the snow.

The stranger gasped. “WATCH OU—!”

Rhett heard a snap like bone breaking. A loud  _ thud!  _ in the snow. Then silence.

“What?!” Rhett raised his head.

The stranger lay slumped in the snow: his body lay not far from his liberated head. The blazing, rancid fire washed him and the snow in jittery shades of crimson.

Rhett shook to the bone.  _ Link, _ he thought.  _ Where are you…? _

He saw movement.

Rhett whipped his shotgun in front of him. He stood back. His finger trembled on the trigger.

There was another figure… someone else was behind the fire.

_ Something _ else entirely.

 

* * *

 

“We’ve  _ gotta _ get out of here.” Stevie stormed from the counter with the map in hand. “Like right now.”

Jen, Chase, and Candace all looked at her, alarmed. “We don’t have to,” Jen said with a voice of reason.

“No no no no no no no, we  _ can’t _ stay here. Maybe somewhere else in the lodge, but we can’t stay here.” She squatted down and laid out the map flat on the floor.

“I’d rather not move if we don’t have to, Steve,” Candace said feebly.

Stevie tapped the center of the map—the lodge—like she was tapping an SOS. “Those tunnels,” she nearly shouted. “There’s tunnels at every major place on this mountain that  _ all lead back to the lodge. _ ” She shook her head in disbelief. “Maybe cuz this place used to be a swanky hotel, they needed supplies wheeled in easily—coal I guess, from the mines, I don’t know?” She skimmed over the map once more before leaping back to her feet. “There might as well be a direct subway line leading back here.”

Jen had gotten up, too. She nibbled her bottom lip. She stepped over to the map. “I can’t tell exactly where that tunnel would lead here… You sure you’re seeing this right?”

Stevie had gone mobile. She was already scouring the corners of the room. “If we stay in this haunted hotel any longer, we’re going to find out soon.” Her red hair flipped this way and that in her wake. She headed for the dilapidated door, the main exit of their safe room. It was nearly off its hinges earlier, but they’d repositioned it and barricaded it with some extra chairs.

Chase sat up in his own chair. “Stevie,  _ no _ .”

The extra chairs were already out of Stevie’s way before Jen was able to stop her.

Stevie looked down the seedy corridor. Jen was struggling to pull her back in, but Stevie had to make sure.

“Guys, it’s fine,” Stevie said, shaking off Jen. “There’s nothing but shadows. The halogen lamps are still on in the kitchen, so there’s ample light. If we can get past this hotel,  _ then  _ barricade the basement doors, then we’ll be safe.”

The three remaining friends all looked at each other.

Jen clutched the journal to her chest. “They’re pretty hard to outrun, y’know…”

Candace shook her head. “But I can agree with that, T-B-H,” she chimed in, pointing at Stevie. “If we don’t move  _ now _ , then they’ll definitely catch us here with nowhere to run.” She walked over to the door, next to Stevie. “And goddamn it, I will barricade the doors myself if it means I’ll never have to see those Devil’s Rejects again.”

Chase and Jen turned to exchange hesitant looks; they both knew the other erred on the side of caution. But Chase shrugged and looked between Candace and Jen before saying, “We’re just moving our hiding location. So we don’t get cornered. You don’t wanna get cornered by one of these…these…” Chase’s expression became clouded by a painful thought until he shook his head, shaking it away. “It’ll be okay, Jen.”

Jen held the journal with both of her hands. She took a deep breath.

Then she marched for the exit. She tossed the journal behind her.

“Whoa there, chica,” Candace said.

Stevie grinned and followed after the blur of blonde.

“Guys, come on.” Jen glanced back at them. “Let’s go before I regret this.”

 

* * *

 

Rhett shut his eyes.

_ BAM! _

The creature toppled back - clearly shaken, shot by Rhett’s blast - before lurching forward with a face amplified in horror by the dancing fuel fire. It growled.

Rhett ran for his life.

He looked back: it was coming.  _ Holy shit, _ he thought, it was coming. Galloping, leaping on all fours, legs and joints jutting in and out of the snow. Rhett didn’t know where he was going—he just needed to  _ go. _

It  _ SCREEEEEECHED _ , only louder— _ closer _ . Its rancid breath touched his back.

Rhett panicked. His feet dug in the snow. His lungs ached. The woods began to blur—

He tripped—a damn tree root caught his foot, slamming his face to the ground.

It  _ SCREEEEEECHED  _ again.

He twisted around, sat up and aimed the gun as fast as he could.

It was  _ flying _ at him. Claws, teeth bared like a thousand razor blades in his face.

The last thing he saw were pieces of denim stuck in its teeth. He could’ve sworn it was the same wash as Link’s overalls.

 

* * *

 

The hallway stretched on and on. Stevie didn’t remember this stretch being as long when she and Rhett had found it hours ago. She started to feel a chill from her fingers, up her arms, and up her spine. She knew they’d be okay. But she lost track of how many beats per minute her heart was racing.

Jen was leading them, with Candace and Chase walking forward as best they could behind her, one by one. Stevie watched them, while her eyes kept checking every decrepit door, every eroded corner in the hall. Sharp-angled shadows made her second-guess herself over and over. God, this hallway was long.

The halogen lights were like white walls piercing the corner of her eye. Stevie shielded her eyes. The metal islands in the kitchen glinted little flecks of white. The lights looked so bright, whatever was behind them only looked like a black void. But otherwise, the room was empty.

Stevie kept her eyes there.

“Your neck’s gonna snap if you don’t look forward,” Candace quipped.

Stevie didn’t blink. There was a wall hidden in the darkness, but part of the wall looked ribbed, like metal grooves...almost like an opening to a storage unit. 

“Just keep walking,” Stevie said. 

She bumped into a very still Candace.

“Hey—” Stevie protested.

“Don’t.” Candace’s voice was a ghost of a whisper.

Stevie looked forward.

Jen held her arms back. Chase and Candace were petrified, still. They were near the end of the hall, just about to enter the hotel lobby.

But Stevie saw it.

It was absolutely hideous.

Crouching there, in their way, clearly on the prowl. It was unlike anything she’d seen before: Its legs were bent in a nauseating angle. Its eyes were coal black marbles. But its teeth. Its teeth put those saw blades to shame—sticking out like spikes on a morning star, stained with different shades of a rusty scarlet. It truly looked possessed.

Candace shivered ever so slightly. “Don’t. Move.”

 

* * *

 

The trigger seemed to go off by itself.

_ BAM! _

A sudden blast. He felt fire—hot, hot heat.

The rifle punched his ribs in the recoil. He heard a thunderous shriek.

“WHOA!” His back slapped the ground.  _ Holy crap, _ he thought. Somehow he must have shot the flamethrower tank. He guffawed in relief.

That monster was gone and that’s all that mattered.

_ No _ , Rhett thought. All that mattered now was finding Link.

He tried to get up—

_ Oh no… _ Rhett tried getting up again. The pain in his back pulled him down like a magnetic force.  _ I’m gonna die here.  _ He shook his head. It hurt so much. But he couldn’t stay here. Not without Link.

He screamed getting up; the pain in his back was unbearable.

He heard a distant guttural sound. Like a rattling purr.

Rhett spun around, aimed his gun.

Nothing.

Rhett blinked. He moved forward—slowly. He winced and groaned every other step, hunching from his aching back. He watched the still trees. He rubbed his sore side. The cold now started to numb his nose. There was a fine early morning fog starting to form around him, making the ground and air around him almost dream-like in white, blurred edges.

Rhett gripped the shotgun again, squeezing it like a stress ball to keep the blood flowing in his white knuckles. He kept moving forward on the trail. He gritted his teeth. Everything hurt  _ so _ much.

But Link needed him now more than ever.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t. Move. A fucking muscle.” Candace’s voice was so quiet, Stevie could barely hear the sounds of her mouth moving.

The monster suddenly jerked its head toward them.

Stevie held her breath.

It  _ squinted,  _ as if it could see, checking for whatever prey might be in this strange, new place. It peeked its head into the hallway—

Stevie’s eyes widened.

—and it moved its head, looking with its empty eyes all over the empty space, its gaze remaining inches above Jen’s head.

_ SCREEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHH!!!  _

Stevie caught a better look at its teeth: there were  _ rows  _ of them. At least two. She thought she saw Jen waver, but the monster didn’t seem to notice.

It stared at all of them. It stared  _ past _ them. It kept staring.

It seemed dissatisfied, actually. How almost...  _ human _ its expressions were made Stevie internally shudder. She could almost see their own tiny reflections in its jet black eyes, beneath its sagging eyelids, which seemed to crease even more with a crude imitation of frustrated disappointment.

The monster abruptly turned around, angrily clawing at the already peeling wallpaper in the adjacent corridor ahead of them. It crawled forward and turned at the left corner. Its ear-chilling shrieks echoed farther and farther and farther...until they couldn’t hear it anymore.

They stayed still for another moment.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Chase whispered.

 

* * *

 

_ Who puts a bunch of gorillas on a bible school t-shirt? _ Rhett mused.

He’d never forget that one afternoon in middle school. He and Link accidentally had worn matching t-shirts to school. These rather hideous-in-hindsight, purple, unisex shirts they’d gotten from a church retreat they went to with their families. But the two boys had owned it, even drawn attention to it, in their usual class-clown style.

But somewhere between fifth period Social Studies and sixth period Biology, Rhett had left his buddy to use the bathroom. Link nodded and went to get a book from his locker nearby. Nothing unusual.

When Rhett left the bathroom, he saw Link’s back facing him from the lockers. An older kid twice Link’s size was sneering at him, taunting him, and repeatedly slapping at his shoulder or chest. No one else in the hall seemed to notice or care. Link’s shirt had looked almost like a tunic; it dwarfed him even more.

Rhett picked up his pace. As he got closer, the taller kid didn’t appear that much tall compared to Rhett. It was the year of his first growth spurt, and it was the first year of many when he would be the tallest kid in class. But poor Link was still quite small.

The sneering, taller kid shoved Link by the shoulder. He stumbled backward, nearly falling, with a small whimper escaping his lips.

“HEY!” Rhett roared.

The older kid looked up, taken aback.

Without thinking, Rhett put a hand on Link. He felt the small curves of his shoulder blades twitch and a quiet gasp that almost went unnoticed reached Rhett’s ears.

Rhett felt his face get hot. He leaned forward. He squinted.

“Back off.”

This punk probably could’ve easily thrown a punch. But Rhett would never forget the look on this kid’s face: how he backed away slowly with his hands up, then turned away and hurried down the hall. Rhett didn’t take his eyes off the damn kid until he was out of sight.

He turned to Link. His hand fell away from Link’s back, his fingertips brushing briefly against the bumps of his spine. “You okay, bud?”

Link nodded silently, trying to look away. But Rhett saw him: His bottom lip quivered. His brow, a creased apex. The corners of his eyes glistened.

Rhett thought about him now—the scared little blue-eyed boy in the school hallway.

He thought about him in this frozen, foggy mountain forest. The trees, Rhett’s only witnesses. Or so he hoped. He didn’t have to think to come to Link’s aid. It was almost natural.

“Link!” he called out again. His throat started to feel like sandpaper. “ _ Liiiiink! _ ” He felt like he was shouting into the void.

The trees were starting to look like long, slender legs of towering giants, especially in the gossamer mist. The sky was a dark, dark blue, but getting brighter with the morning. Rhett inched along, nursing the pain in his back and desperately looking all around him. He aimed his gun in front of him, just in case. He ducked under fallen tree trunks. He shimmied and dropped from elevated rocks—his spine protesting. But he kept walking. Searching.

He followed the trail until there was no more to follow. A small clearing greeted his tired, heavy eyes. It was so white and empty.

He almost didn’t see the trail of blood.

Rhett fell to his knees. 

“Oh my God,” Rhett sobbed. He bent down as best he could. Splatters of red dotted the snow. There were faint footprints and larger slash-like marks in the snow that didn’t have blood. The splatters painted a sloppy trail that swerved back into another patch of woods.

“Rh...ett…!”

Rhett’s ears perked up. He heard it. It was distant. But he heard it.

Desperation started to rack his brain. His harried breaths made clouds and clouds from his mouth. He lowered his gun. His feet dragged through the bloody snow at first. He took a sharp deep breath. He needed to power through the pain.

“ _ Rhett!! _ ”

It was unmistakable now.

“LINK!” Rhett craned his neck and cupped his mouth. “I’m comin!”

He sprinted into the woods.

 

* * *

 

If they could….just...sneak around this corner… They’d be in the clear.

Stevie kept repeating this thought to herself. It really sucked being the last one in this line. Her back felt so naked. And they were moving so...so slowly.

They were also holding hands. Like a line of school children linked together on a field trip. If only, Stevie thought. Jen, Chase, and Candace respectively led Stevie by the hand. It was another long hallway after another, it seemed. She could feel her palm become moist in Candace’s vise grip.

“Is there any way we could move faster?” Stevie whispered, almost hissed.

Candace threw daggers with her gaze. Jen glanced back with a taut, stressed face. Chase didn’t look back.

“We’re like, almost at the door,” Jen whispered back. Her voice wavered. “This is just a precaution.”

Stevie cringed, but swallowed back her pride with an audible gulp. 

She saw the fallen wooden door from earlier - the one that Jen apparently knocked down  _ by herself. _ Kudos to her, Stevie thought. Somehow she was not surprised by the strength of that girl. They could patch up that door later. Maybe.

Her ears perked at a distant sound—a wooden object falling onto the stone floor. Somewhere behind her. It was faint.

“Guys,” Stevie whispered.

Jen shushed her. No one looked back.

The wooden sound happened again—a mighty clatter.  _ Much _ louder this time.

“Guys,” Stevie instantly yelped.

The three of them all turned around and looked past her; all the color in their faces faded before her eyes.

Stevie  _ had _ to look.

She was right—it was there.

Right at the corner, across the lobby, by the elevator.

Its wide eyes were aimed right at them.

“RUN!” Jen shrieked.

 

* * *

 

“Link!”

Silence.

Leaves rustled, and snow shuffled and crunched in Rhett’s wake.

“LINK!” 

He squinted through the mist. The blood on the ground lessened to droplets. But there was still so much of it. Did wendigos bleed? Rhett wanted it so bad to be true. He jumped over knotted roots. He felt the wind pierce his lungs like little needles. He  _ knew  _ Link was close by.

“Liiink!” he sobbed.

He squinted ahead of him: another clearing was ahead of him, maybe twenty yards away. It was foggier, but he could see it just beyond this last fallen tree trunk on the ground. He slowed his pace. He didn’t see any more blood on the ground. He turned around and looked in every direction, but if he moved his head too fast, the trees looked eerily like the ungodly, slender limbs of the wendigo.

He shut his eyes and shook his head. Link was here, he could  _ feel  _ it.

He thought he heard a faint...rustling.

“Link…?” Rhett craned his neck. 

He walked closer to the fallen trunk. It was such a thin sound, but Rhett could’ve sworn it was the quietest crying.

“Link, I’m here,” Rhett sighed. “I’m so sorry...”

He reached the fallen tree. Its trunk stood nearly as tall as a ranch gate. He couldn’t quite see what was behind it. But Rhett could hear the sobbing, hushed and wounded.

“Link.” Rhett crouched and took a hold of the trunk. His back ached—he winced. “Link? Please, say something.”

He slowly peeked over the edge.

_ SCREEEEEEEEEE!!! _

He felt claws clench his shoulders—he was instantly hurled into the air, until he crashed into the icy ground, pain shooting through his body. Rhett screamed. His gun clattered feet away from him. He felt snow and dirt in his mouth and face. Rhett could barely lift his head up.

The ground beneath him shook with the monster’s steps.

Rhett stayed prone but, with great effort, lifted himself enough to see what greeted him. 

It had spidery legs. It charged on all fours like a puma, charging for Rhett. Its skin glistened and stretched like rotting, raw chicken. And its eyes. Its slate gray eyes that seemed to  _ absorb _ light they were so incredibly filmy. Its teeth were tar black and lethally sharp. Like a grotesque hybrid of man and creature—the curse of the cannibal Wendigo manifested in all its hideous glory.

And Rhett couldn’t stop it.

 

* * *

 

Jen slammed shut the basement door.

She heard growling and shrieking. The door itself started shaking in its frame.

“Come ON, go go go go!!” Chase practically shoved Candace and Stevie up the staircase leading back to the main floor.

The shrieking and shaking intensified.

Jen reluctantly, then hurriedly, ran from the door. She leapt two steps at a time. Everyone else somehow had gotten to the living area faster than she could make it up there.

She sped down the corridor, past lackluster black balloons and blown out candles. She briefly saw a framed picture on a bureau of Jessie whiz past her as she ran. Where  _ was _ everyone?

Jen spotted Stevie’s hair in the distance, with Chase and Candace close behind, standing at the other end of the room.

They were standing perfectly still. All of them were looking up. Jen followed their eyes.

She skidded to stop.

A wendigo sat perfectly perched on the edge of the second floor railing. Like a gargoyle seated with its needle-like legs bent close to its hunched ribs. It leaned forward and caught ambient light in its alarmingly clear eyes—they were a pale watery gray, almost blue, with black, pinpoint pupils in its death stare. Its eyes scanned the room.

_ RRRRRAAAAAAHHHHHHH— _

It catapulted from the railing. This new wendigo was suddenly met with the body of the first one—which unsurprisingly made it up here. Their claws dug into each other’s skin in seemingly endless rounds of buffets, scratches, and grapples with each other.

They all watched in silent, petrified awe.

They saw the blue-eyed monster launch the other wendigo against the fireplace like a wadded up ball of paper. The weaker monster dislodged a gas pipe against the fireplace and rolled with loud THUDS from its sharp-boned appendages. But it got up, cracked its bones with a medley of  _ CRR-R-CR-CRRR-ACKS, _ and lunged for the blue-eyed monster’s throat.

The gas pipe steadily leaked with invisible waves.

Stevie noticed this.

She looked at Jen, whose own blue eyes were transfixed on the freakshow unfolding in front of them.

Stevie looked around the living area.... Yes. She needed a fire. A box of matches in a bureau, maybe. But she didn’t wanna make any sudden movements across the room. The candles along the stairs had all been blown out and were too far away. There were some frivolous lamps and light fixtures around the room…

A light bulb. A literal light bulb appeared in Stevie’s head.

There was a light fixture with a small enough bulb for Stevie to break, against a pillar close to the couch. And the main light switch stood by the door. Yes. That was perfect.

Stevie tried again and looked at Jen.

Jen was already staring at Stevie with a world’s worth of worry. She glanced back at the leaking gas pipe on her own, then back at Stevie with a face that almost seemed like an audible question mark. 

Stevie nodded toward the light bulb and the light switch.  _ Come on, girl, make the connection... _

Jen’s eyes bounced back and forth between all the components of Stevie’s plan.  _ Simple... But risky. And explosive. _ At this point, though, she was willing to try anything.

The two of them almost didn’t notice Chase and Candace slipping past and stealthing toward the front door. Jen spotted them; she couldn’t help but smile—how Chase wrapped his arm around Candace. They moved at a sloth’s pace amidst the violent, freakish sounds filling their ears.

_ Let’s blow this joint.  _ Stevie moved a little faster, a little clumsier than she’d wanted, hastily toward the light bulb.

Jen gasped.  _ Stevie!  _

The floorboards groaned under Jen’s foot.

_ RRAAAAHH—?! _

Its pale, sharp eyes snapped toward the sound of Jen’s shoes. It shoved the other monster’s face to the floor. The floorboards cracked on impact.

 

* * *

 

Rhett felt like he was watching a Saturday night B-horror movie as a kid again. An actual monster was galloping straight for him. It was so weird.

Rhett smiled—the corners of his lips curled only slightly, while his eyes drooped. His heart beat steadily. He lowered his head to the snow. The pain almost felt like nothing. His eyes closed.

Wherever Link was, Rhett hoped it was better than this.

“HEY!”

That voice.

The monster’s gallops were replaced with clumsy snarls and a hissing screech.

Rhett’s eyes flitted open. A breath of life started to fill his lungs.

The wendigo’s eyes bored a hole through something over Rhett’s shoulder. Rhett shut his eyes as he struggled to rise. His bit his tongue to keep from crying out. He was able to sit up in time to look over his shoulder and see through the fog—

Link.

Link’s shoulder was blood-soaked, and his overalls torn down to the waist, barely hanging on his heaving chest. But he stood tall and defiant. The pig’s head was gripped in his right hand, greased with a dark rouge. His eyes blazed with a fire Rhett had never seen before. The mist behind him seemed to swirl in thick tendrils. Link didn’t make eye contact with Rhett; he didn’t even seem to  _ notice  _ Rhett. Link was staring down the beast.

The wendigo growled. It started clicking and hissing from the back of its throat. Its snarl was twisted in the most genuinely vexed way—it was too uncanny. Rhett shuddered for a second thinking;  _ that  _ thing _ used to be a person… _

It jerked forward and bared its teeth at Link.

Rhett looked around desperately for his gun. He saw it—a yard or two away, closer to the forest. He looked back at them. He waited. The wendigo screeched at Link and moved another two feet forward. Then another...

“Come at me!” Link jutted his chin out and flung open his arms. “You’re not real!”

_ Wh-at in the world…?  _ Rhett furrowed his brow for a split second. But he couldn’t wait longer.

He rolled over until he could reach for the gun. Then, in a swift act of adrenaline, he shot up, stepped back, and pointed the shotgun at the wendigo.

He saw the wendigo’s spine through its skin, like jagged rocks under shallow, murky water. He could see Link’s frame dwarfed by the wendigo’s monstrous silhouette.

Rhett froze.  _ What am I doing?  _ he thought in a panic. He might accidentally shoot Link, who still stood confidently before the monster. Would the bullet go through the wendigo and hit Link?  _ Could  _ it? Rhett lucked out with the flamethrower tank back there. His hands felt wet and clammy against the cold gun metal. 

He sidestepped to the right, hoping to get a better shot—

Rhett gasped.

God, he felt so  _ stupid _ for not noticing sooner. He couldn’t see any trees on the horizon, but he thought it was just the fog. The trees were smaller...more distant...much lower….

Because Link stood at the edge of a cliff.

 

* * *

 

Jen stood there.

_ Not like there’s a six foot gangly monster creeping toward you or anything _ , she thought.

She tried not to look it in the eye, in its unsettling searching of the room. It seemed to see everything else around her  _ but  _ her. As long as she stood. Very. Still.

Her eyes darted to Stevie.

Her hand had just gotten around the little light bulb. Her face twisted in concentration. The bulb was not budging.

The monster’s eyes came into full view.

Jen stayed frozen. She was suddenly so cold. She could barely her own face anymore. All she felt was its menacing, overwhelming stare. Feet...then...inches...from her nose.

_ CR-AAACK!  _

“Shit!” Stevie hissed. Little shards of glass fell from her hand and left little streaks of red in her palm.

The wendigo spun around with a  _ ROOAAAHHHH!!!  _ Its back retreated away from Jen.

Stevie clutched her hand. The fear of God painted her face a pale white.

 

* * *

 

Link took another step back.

 

_ NO! _ Rhett wanted to scream. But he’d draw its attention—would he be able to shoot this thing down with whatever he had left in this stupid gun? He inched closer, still aiming, waiting for the right moment.

The monster trembled with impatience.

_ No…  _  Rhett panicked.  _ No, don’t you dare... _

It leapt out like a frog—its legs were so much longer than Rhett realized. It bared its claws and  _ flew  _ toward Link.

“LINK!!!”

 

* * *

 

Jen sprinted. She flanked another wooden pillar, much closer to the light switch. Maybe they could make it after all.

She saw Chase and Candace at the door, taking one last moment to look back on this unfortunate mountain lodge, before swinging the door open and rushing out of there.

Jen looked back: the monster was still stalking towards a horrified—and apparently bleeding—Stevie. The redhead wobbled in place; the monster twitched another inch forward, like a dog spotting bacon.

_ Nooo, I can’t leave her like that _ … Jen jumped out of her hiding place.

“EYY!” Jen shouted.

She saw the wendigo whip its head back. Its eyes bore a ferocious glint.

Jen glanced at Stevie. “NOW!”

She ran like hell.

 

* * *

 

 

Link smiled.

He watched this pathetic monster come at him. Just like he wanted. It leapt with frightening velocity, and yet time seemed to slow around him. It almost looked real. He tossed the pig’s head aside and jutted out his chin again. This was great.

“LINK!!!!”

_ Rhett—? _ Link stepped backward.  _ Bo, where are y— _

But there was no ground.

“WHOA—!” His hands went flying, his foot crushed through pebbles and loose dirt—

“Rhett?!!”

He was falling— _ fast. _

 

* * *

 

Stevie crouched away from the monster’s sudden swipes and angry galloping. She caught glimpse of Jen heading for the door… and completely missing the light switch.

Stevie booked it. The wendigo moved in sporadic jumps, nearly catching up with the blur of blonde.  _ God, do I have to do everything around here,  _ Stevie nearly screamed in her head.

She heard dull galloping sounding from behind her.  _ What the—?!  _ Stevie wanted to look back, but she wouldn’t. The light switch was so close.

And Jen was almost outside. They could do this.

Stevie heard volleys of sudden screeching—blurs of gray streaking in the corners of her eyes.

She touched the switch. This was it.

Her eyes squeezed shut.

She flipped it.

She screamed.

 

* * *

 

_ 7:01 A.M. - Blackwood Mountain _

  
  
  


The ground shook. The air rumbled. The sky flashed and turned red. But it couldn’t be the sun. Could it?

It all flashed past Link as he fell.

“AAAAHHHH—” His hands were yanked by a sharp rock he took ahold of.

He felt his feet dangle in the abyss.

Link panted. His hands hurt like hell. Holy crap, this wasn’t a fever dream after all, this was _real_ , this was _way_ _too real_ right now. He started to hyperventilate. His center of gravity felt shoddy at best. He kept his eyes skyward: he could’ve sworn the sky was getting brighter, but also redder—and smoky. A fiery smell pierce his nose. As if buckets of gas were filling the air.

_ BAM! ….BAM!! _

Link shuddered. He heard a horrible, gut-wrenching scream unlike any other he’d heard before. What the hell was that, a dying animal?

The rock Link gripped buckled under his hold.

Link’s eyes widened. His heart jumped up his throat. His fingers kept slipping, sliding…

He couldn’t help it—he looked down.

He suddenly wanted to jump.

His  _ mind _ kept wanting to jump, jump down the cliff; his body kept felt like it could let go and fall, and throw itself into the nubilous pit. It felt oddly and morbidly tempting. He could easily let go, if he really wanted to.

_ Dear lord, no, I don’t want to, good grief!  _ Link whimpered. God, he hated this sensation, this incredulous feeling.

Link shook his head and tried to lift himself up, but to avail. His shoulder still bled. It didn’t hurt, but it wouldn’t stop bleeding—that couldn’t be good. His nose was pressed to the rock. Fearful tears started to sting his eyes; he couldn’t fall into the literal abyss. Not now. Not ever.

He saw a large shadow fly over him. The strange animal screaming sounded again, only somewhere below him, growing fainter and fainter.

Link looked up again. The sky was becoming brighter. A blend of deep reds, pale blues, and bright oranges. The fiery scent smelled stronger with the growing morning light.

And...he heard helicopters? Those sure did sound like choppers. But whatever.

“RHETT!!” Link tried to heave himself up again. “Rhett, please!” He choked on a sob. It felt like he was back in the shed, only worse. 

A silhouette of a man appeared over the cliff’s edge. It offered Link a hand.

Link desperately reached for it. It was still some distance away. Link took a deep breath and pushed himself up with his bleeding shoulder. “Come ON!”

They gripped hands.

Link was pulled upward. He felt his feet dink against the cliffside as he tried to find footing to help himself up. The familiar silhouette became clearer after Link’s eyes adjusted from the shining horizon.

Link beamed.

He felt himself get yanked forward.

They fell onto the unforgiving, icy ground. Link lay on top of him—he was so warm. And his chest felt wet with what Link assumed was ice. Link listened to his soft heartbeat.

“Bo...?” Link asked with childlike curiosity.

A heavy sigh pushed Link’s head up, then down.

“I’m here,” Rhett’s voice smiled.

Link felt himself melt. He wanted to look at him—really look at his face. A face he didn’t want to lose again.

He pushed himself up and saw three huge scratch marks across Rhett’s chest. They were still freshly bleeding.

“Dude!” Link started to panic. “What did you—!?”

“Link,” Rhett’s soft, soft, wisp of a voice hushed him. “I’m so glad…” His mouth kept moving, but no sound came out.

Link gripped his shoulders. “Rhett?”

Rhett’s eyes drooped. Then closed completely.

Link didn’t know what to do. He kept hearing the same strange helicopter chops overhead or some chopping sound, he didn’t know, but he knew didn’t have time for skygazing now.

“Rhett, can you hear me!?” He pressed his ear to his mouth—his breaths were shallow. “Rhett? Rhett!!”

“ _ Link Neal. _ ”

Link cursed the sky and looked up.

A helicopter was in fact hovering above him now. It flew in closer. Its bright white spotlight threatened to blind Link.

“Owww!!” Link shielded his eyes.

He looked back down at an unconscious Rhett again.

“My friend is  _ dying! _ ” he roared at the sky.

He squinted—he was definitely gonna need glasses, he thought. But he could make out someone in the helicopter. A vaguely familiar person with a megaphone leaned out the side of the helicopter body; he wore a brown suit and tie and a pencil moustache.

“ _ This is Detective Seaborne of the Alberta PD, _ ” his voice boomed overhead. “ _ You need to come with us. _ ”

Link’s heart sank.


	11. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of Blackwood Mountain have left Link scarred. Time, and the presence of a dear friend, heal his wounds.

 

 

_June 2016, 8:43 A.M.  -  Prescott Behavior Hospital_

 

_“Bo…?”_

 

_“I’m here.”_

  
  
  


Link’s pillowcase felt cold and wet against his cheek.

 _Not again,_ he thought. That always seemed to happen after that dream...

He rolled over and tried to fall back asleep. The hospital bed creaked so loudly. His woolen blanket was oppressively scratchy. Only recently was he able to clock in seven hours of sleep a night. Some mornings came sooner than others.

 _Oh, boy..._ Link thought. _Jason’s snoring like a freaking lawnmower._

Jason, his roommate, slept in the other bed across the room, behind a thin, pale pink ceiling curtain that partitioned their room. He snored like a legit hibernating bear. ( _Oh wow, that actually hurt my eardrums,_ Link cringed.) He was a nice fellow, around Link’s age. A little too eager to appear next to him and follow him around sometimes, but he meant well. They bonded over British comedies when Jason felt up to it. But when he didn’t, Jason sat in the commons room, in one of the arm chairs—all by himself, in a catatonic, almost morose state.

Link sat up. He grabbed his pillow and hugged it like a long lost friend. The weight of the world seemed to leave his chest when he finally sighed.

All the rooms in this place were perennially cold. The hallways were an endless labyrinth painted in an ugly shade of taupe. Every other admittee in this place seemed so distant to Link, floating around in this purgatory of a “behavioral hospital.” He was so thankful today was his last day, and then tomorrow was sweet, sweet freedom.

His parents had paid him a visit last week.

His father liked reminding him of how he basically saved Link’s ass...again. After hours in the interrogation room with Detective Seaborne, rehashing what happened that night at the lodge...

_“Alright, Link…”  Detective Seaborne leaned forward. “There was something else one of your friends mentioned.” The detective briefly checked the clock face on his flip phone, with a disapproving twitch of his moustache, before continuing. “Something about…‘monsters’ in the North West Mines? Does that ring a bell?”_

Link remembered sitting there. The table had looked really dingy and smudged with other people’s wild handprints. He glanced at the handcuffs still around his wrists. The chains jangled against the table.

_“...Bueller? Link?”_

_“I-I don’t_ know _. Maybe. I never freaking stepped foot in those mines… You should find out yourself.”_

He really didn’t like that Seaborne guy. He looked like some stuffy know-it-all; the moustache and slicked hair didn’t help. He remembered having a fun little staring contest with him, before Link crumbled under his own guilt. That guy had a mean stare… _And what respectable detective still owns a flip phone?_ Link thought.

There were lawyers and money involved, combined with Link’s own desperate confession. It all just sent him back here.

But his mother said they had a “surprise” for him for his last day.

Link bit his bottom lip and put on a good face for her. “Surprises” were usually a little…lavish? Link rolled his eyes at himself thinking: who was _he_ , the son of a local real estate tycoon, to want something simple? Most other people his age would be more than content with getting the latest cameras or most updated phones every Christmas. But he sometimes felt this void in his chest—an utterly numb, gray feeling—that not even his favorite DSLR could fill.

Today though, he felt considerably better. He was definitely feeling up to leaving and trying to live a normal-ish life again.

Link pensively rubbed his bare chin. _Yeah,_ he thought, _shaving’s a thing now._ Into the first month of his stay, his goatee had turned into what looked like a thin layer of black hay on his face. He learned two things: 1. Maintaining hygiene is the first step to recovery, and 2. He can’t grow a decent beard to save his life.

 _I bet Rhett could grow a beard,_ he thought with a smile. _That dude’s peach fuzz has some pretty good beardage potential._ He laughed out loud to himself.

Rhett.

No one besides his parents had visited him since he got admitted. Not even Rhett. Was Rhett okay? Link never found out if his best friend ever fully recovered… His parents never mentioned anything, or deflected his questions whenever he asked. He could be dead for all he knew.

Sadness filled Link’s chest. He squeezed his pillow closer to him.

Either way, Link couldn’t stay sad. Freedom was but a day away. He might as well try to get up now.

 _Do it for him,_ Link thought.

His bare feet touched the cold laminate floor. He looked to his right to see the familiar robe and hospital booties that were usually left for them to wear inside the facility. Link made himself lean over and grab them.

Before he forgot, he turned to his left and saw his new eyeglasses on his nightstand. They were a bit thicker and more rectangular than he would’ve liked, but they made seeing across the room much easier, and that’s what really mattered. He shimmied over and put those on as well.

He stood up. The floor felt like a sheet of ice.

_Why is everything so cold here?_

The aroma of breakfast fare from the cafeteria led him to the door. Link breathed it in. He missed bacon— _real_ bacon. The bacon here must have been turkey. Or plastic. He also really, really missed unlimited peanut butter. _Ohhhh man, I could go for a peanut butter and banana sandwich right now. With some boba tea, maybe. Yeah, there was a new boba cafe opening up, I think. Yeahhh._

He opened his door.

“Oh! You’re awake!”

Link stumbled backward.

A startled nurse in green scrubs was already standing at his door. Her wavy blonde hair was tied in a messy, low bun. There were bags under eyes, but her eyes were a lively blue. There was a large ziploc bag with what looked like folded clothes on top of the clipboard she was carrying.

“Oh,” Link uttered. “Hi, Lizzie.”

“Morning, Link,” Lizzie smiled, still a little spooked. “Didn’t realize you’d be up so soon.”

“Couldn’t wait to hop out the door,” Link grinned.

Lizzie chuckled. “Well, your family couldn’t wait either.” She handed over the large ziploc. “They left you some fresh clothes to change into. And as soon as you’re changed and had some breakfast, you’re actually free to go.”

Link stared at her. “You’re yanking my chain.”

“Nope.” Lizzie’s wavy hair shook with her head. “You’ll have to fill out some exit paperwork, but otherwise—” Lizzie’s smile widened; it was the most genuine, eye-smiling smile Link had seen in awhile. “—Dr. Graham gave you the green light, and your parents have already worked everything out.”

“I mean…” Link scratched the back of his hair. “I had a feeling our last session went well. He’s been really patient with me, but…” Link’s voice trailed off. He craned his neck and squinted. “Are you sure?”

Lizzie nodded, the eye-smiling smile still bright on her face.

Link couldn’t complain... but it seemed so...unlike them? He kept his smile to a humble grin; but his mind was a happy and confused clusterfuck. _Whaaahaaaaa—okay, stop. Have some cautious optimism, Link._

He quickly wolfed down a serving of scrambled egg substitute in the cafeteria. ( _If this was any more flavorless, it’d be tap water,_ he mused.)

He then went to the men’s bathroom down the hall, accompanied by Lizzie. She waited outside the door while he changed. (“It’s protocol. In case anything happens,” she explained on his first day.) She didn’t really have to, but Link found it oddly comforting—someone watching out for him, even if it was just part of her job.

Link looked at himself in one of the mirrors: some glistening cold sweat appeared on his temple. He took out the bag’s contents: one of his many graphic tees from home, some new alpargatas, and a pair of comfortable but presentable athletic pants.

 _Well, it’s not like I’m dressing to impress anyone,_ he thought. He forgot about Prescott Hospital’s strict, precautionary rules on allowed clothing in the facility... All the more reason he was raring to go.

When he was dressed, he absently started styling his hair with his fingers. He pushed his hair back and revealed the large real estate of his forehead. _Seriously, who am I kidding?_ He shook his hair, and his bangs covered his forehead. Maybe he could use a haircut? His hair was literally starting to flip out at the ends, almost like little wings. _Eh. I’ll own that._

Lizzie then ushered him to the front desk.

Link squinted and looked away from the sunlight shining through the distant doors. He was seeing the front entrance for the first time in months: four glass doors behind a gate and two metal detectors. That’s when it hit him—he _really was_ going back to the outside world after nearly half a year.

Once they got to the front desk, Lizzie reached over the counter and handed him a clipboard. “Kevin’ll be here to take your paperwork when you’re done, and someone should be here to sign you out shortly.”

Kevin, a male nurse with brown hair that went past his chin, waved at Link with a sheepish grin. Link did likewise.

Lizzie rested a gentle hand on Link’s forearm. “Take care, okay?”

Link smiled. “Thank you.”

He felt a bittersweet pang in his gut. He was so close to freedom. To be free and re-enter civilization…

And then what?

Link’s pen stopped short on the paper.

What was waiting for him outside this hospital? Aside from his parents - probably filled with pity and paranoia over his instability.

_No one. No one even visited you, man. No one cares about you._

Link forced himself to finish his exit surveys and follow-up forms. He felt his brow crease and his fingers become slick against his pen.

 _Jen didn’t visit. Or Stevie. Candace and Chase must really hate you now. Not even Rhett visited... Do they even_ like _you anymore? Does Rhett…?_

The sunlight was getting brighter inside. A shadow stretched across the floor in the corner of Link’s eye. His pen made deep, jagged trails where he wrote.

_They think you’re a psycho. An actual freak. You nearly killed them. Good job, brother. You deserve it. You’re an idiot. You pulled the most horrible prank on them. Serves you right to be alone._

Link slammed the pen down on the clipboard.

“Done?” Kevin asked Link with a cautious smile.

Link nodded hurriedly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Then you’re all set!” Kevin took the clipboard. Something caught his eye just past Link. “Looks like someone might be here to sign you out already.”

Link braced himself. His hands felt like they were gonna stick to the counter if he didn’t move soon.

“Hey, buddy,” a familiar voice greeted.

Link spun around.

His jaw went slack.

This guy had a chinstrap—a little freaking chinstrap. A beard in training. His hair was up; it wasn’t too tall, like the rest of him, but a few more inches, and it could’ve been a perfect bird’s nest. He was standing there, with a face that must have mirrored Link’s own shock for a split second, before the mole on his upper lip moved with the slow, warm smile that spread across his face.

“Surpriiise,” Rhett said.

 

* * *

 

 _Thank God his car is on the first floor of this parking cave,_ Link sighed in his thoughts. It was still the gray ‘09 sedan Rhett had bought with his own, hard-earned money. A bit dinged up, but still functional.

Link flew to the front passenger door and yanked the door handle.

“Hold your horses, dude, lemme unlock it first,” Rhett said, half grinning but with an alarm in his voice.

As soon as Link heard the doors click, he dropped into the front seat and slammed the door behind him.

Rhett, like a calm sloth, lowered himself into the driver’s seat, gingerly closed the door, and inserted his key into the ignition without starting it. Link saw Rhett turn to him in the corner of his eye.

“Link...it’s just me,” Rhett said. “You don’t have to worry about anyone else right now.”

His voice was soft. Link knew that tone. He knew it well.

Link felt his brow furrow upward. “I know it’s just you, but...I can’t help it.”

He leaned away, resting an elbow on the edge of his passenger window. Link kept staring at the concrete wall of the parking garage.

“Like—I can’t pretend I didn’t just do the most theatrically stupidest thing a spoiled rich boy could do to his friends—”

“Hey, come on.” Rhett lightly tapped Link’s shoulder. “All that’s over now.”

“No, man, hear me out!” Link flailed his hands in the air and looked at Rhett. “I mean, who buys _pig guts_ for fun? I still can’t believe half of that crap made _sense_ in my head at one point. It’s been racking my brain ever since I got admitted. I just—don’t worry, I feel much better now, I really do, but—” He stumbled on words and ended up mumbling in gibberish. He winced.

“What...?” Rhett leaned in with the most sincerely confused look on his face.

Link turned to him, but he kept his eyes downward, at the empty drink holders between them.

“I really don’t want to fuck things up again,” he said softly. His fingertip circled the edge of one of the drink holders. “I’m...scared.”

Rhett turned his body to face Link. Link refused to look at him.

“Of what, bo?” Rhett’s hand came into view and stopped Link’s fingers from moving. Rhett’s fingertips were slightly rough, but his touch was gentle.

Link slowly raised his eyes.

It was funny how everyone else saw Rhett as this stronger stud of a guy. But one look at the curve of his small smile, and Link was reminded in his heart of hearts how soft Rhett was on the inside. Too soft sometimes. Too good to him. This boy needed to be protected; not neglected at the hands of his own psychotic idiocy...

“Link?” Rhett gasped.

Link’s face was buried in his hands.

“Are you crying?”

Link choked. “Maybe.”

He felt Rhett’s hand glide up his arm and massage his shoulder. A comforting, smooth movement that felt so warm through his shirt.

Link looked up: the tears made Rhett’s face blurry and distorted.

“I don’t wanna lose control,” Link choked, “or lose sense of reality anymore. My brain really trips me up, you have no idea.”

Rhett’s thumb stroked the back of Link’s hand. “I can’t imagine,” he murmured.

“I legit thought you might’ve died for a minute, Rhett. No one ever told me anything.” Link wearily shook his head. “I’m so scared…” Tears started to drop fresh from his eyes again. “...of _losing_ you _._ Again.”

Rhett’s hand stopped massaging. Instead, he took Link’s hand and squeezed it.

“Listen. I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere, Link. Promise.” Even when he squeezed his hand, Rhett was gentle. “Even if you need me to _physically stay_ with you for a while at your house, crap, I will do it. I’d do it for you, Link. Something like last year is never gonna happen again if I can help it.”

Link’s forehead came down on Rhett’s shoulder, and the tears flowed.

“Oh gosh. I’m sorry, Link. I’m so sorry.”

Link cried. For who knows how long.

Rhett started rubbing Link’s back. “But hey...I’m so glad you opened up. You let it out, brother. You don’t have to say any more.”

After a tear-soaked while, Link shied away from Rhett and lowered himself onto the island between their chairs. His cheek pressed against stiff pleather. He wanted to curl up in a ball. He felt so embarrassed.

But Rhett enveloped Link, in a way that must have been uncomfortable for a tall guy like Rhett. But he did it anyway. Link could feel Rhett’s head against his back; his facial hair and breath tickled Link’s neck.

“I’m a huge baby,” Link said dryly.

“That’s bull, and you know it,” Rhett said softly.

Link’s eyes felt like they were punched dry. But Rhett felt like a warm compress.

“Did all of that...really happen?” Link’s voice squeaked. “I mean, I obviously didn’t spend half a year with my therapist and psychiatrist for nothing. But I _can’t_ believe it.”

“Me neither.” Rhett paused. He chuckled a bit. “I got to fire a freaking shotgun; everyone was attacked by _actual_ wendigos; Jen and Stevie apparently blew up the lodge; and you just cried for the first time in front of me.”

“Did they _really_ blow up the—waitaminute.” Link did a double-take. “Shut up, I can cry if I want to.” Link wiggled free from Rhett and shoved him.

“Whatever you say, Leslie Gore.”

They both laughed for a bit, laughing away the somber air between them.

“Well hey,” Rhett said. He put a hand on the wheel. “Now you’re out of that hellhole. Where do you wanna go now?” Rhett smiled. “We can stock up on some peanut butter, or try that new boba place you mentioned a while back.”

“Por que no los dos?” Link grinned.

Rhett laughed. “Heck, Jen and Stevie asked about you, we could text them.”

“Really?? Crap, how are they? What’re they doing now?”

“You could ask ‘em yourself. Over boba. Or whateeeever you wanna do, buddy. Cuz heck—I wasn’t even able to celebrate with you for your birthday that just passed up, for like, the first time in—” Rhett painstakingly counted on his other hand. “—never.”

“You are such a freaking dork, I could kiss you right now.”

Link slapped his hand over his mouth. _Do you ever think before things come flying out your face hole?_

No amount of facial hair could’ve hidden Rhett’s flushed cheeks. Link was almost proud of himself.

Rhett revved up the engine.

“Let’s...talk about that. Later.” The corner of his mouth curved up ever so slightly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_December 2016  -  Blackwood Mountain_

  
  


“Y’sure you know where we’re going, Rhett?”

“Yes.” The dirty-blonde giant walked a few steps forward on the slushy ground. “Candace said it was around here, not far from the bottom of this ravine.” Rhett crouched down and looked out on the horizon. The afternoon sun shot gold and scarlet beams through the spaces in the forest. “We’ll just have to hike a little more upward.”

“I mean, hey, our fat asses need exercise…” Link said, slowing his steps. He eyed the plateauing of this part of the mountain, not far from the mines. “If we can’t make it there in time, though, we’re heading straight for the guest cabin and sitting out the night. Cuz. Y’know.” Link involuntarily shuddered.

Rhett kept looking straight ahead. “Those bastards won’t off anyone else tonight.”

Link stopped dead in a patch of dirty slush.

Rhett kept marching forward, onto the rocky terrain. The jagged formations stood like crooked teeth, but they petered out into iced earth and snow.

Link’s feet wouldn’t budge. His thoughts—his _fears_ —wouldn’t let him move.

Rhett spun around. “Link?”

Link instinctively hugged himself.

“Do you wanna go back to the car?”

Link thought about it. He shook his head.

“We can go back if you’ve changed your mind,” Rhett said, concern growing in his lightly bearded face.

“No…” Link sighed a foggy cloud from his lips. “I need to see this.”

Rhett solemnly nodded. “Me too.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Can you believe…?” Link’s voice shook like the trembling branches against the sudden breeze. “The last thing they saw was one of those...freaks?”

Rhett knelt down before the graves.

The evening sun turned the weathered crosses into gold beams. The way their sisters’ names were written on the wood—like someone who was in a hurry to write down something important, in quick, fluid marks of faded, black ink—moved Rhett.

“I don’t want to believe anything right now,” Rhett murmured.

Link looked up at the sky, a sheet of cloudless yellow. The sun was on its way down the horizon. _Maybe if I stare directly at the sun it’ll keep me from crying,_ he thought. He shook his head. _What the heck kind of quack-logic is that, Link?_

He looked where Rhett was still silently crouched. The tall boy was still as stone.

 _Jessie… Christy...You both must be thinking we’re idiots,_ Link thought.

A stray tear or two soaked his wry grin.

_Well. I know I’m definitely an idiot. But Rhett’s here. And we’re both less of an idiot when we’re together… Well. Sometimes._

He stepped up next to Rhett and crouched down beside him. Rhett was in his own world, eyes downward, head bowed.

“We’re not gonna make it out before sunset,” Link said softly.

“I don’t care.”

Rhett’s brow creased before his bloodshot, puffy eyes locked with Link’s. His breath made clouds that danced in the inches between their noses.

“Portland can wait. We’ve got the rest of Christmas break to drive over there.” He smiled a small, self-conscious smile. “We’ll be okay tonight. That, I do believe.”

Link smiled back.

They both reluctantly stood up and gazed upon the graves for one last moment.

“You think we should tell our parents?” Link blurted.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The fireplace roared.

Link took one last look at the door: it had been replaced with a metal, window-less door with three different locks. The window shutters were new, too. All the windows in the guest cabin had apparently been replaced. Everything else had been cleaned and dusted, almost like new.

“I think we’re safe,” Link said.

Rhett adjusted the firewood with the metal poker. “We just gotta wait. Knew I should’ve brought some of the munchie snacks with us.”

“You’re hungry?” Link wore an incredulous smile.

“Nah. Just got food on the brain.” Rhett got up and plopped on the old clawfoot couch. “We gotta treat ourselves to an authentic roadside diner tomorrow.”

Link skipped over to Rhett. He suddenly felt giddy. He knew the cushions on this old couch were getting flat, but they felt like a cloud when he sat down next to Rhett.

“There’s not much else we can do here,” Link said, staring into the thriving flames.

Rhett nodded. “It’s not like we can eat each other, either.”

Link leaned away from him. “Dude.”

“Oh.” Rhett covered his mouth. “That was tasteless.”

“Rhett!”

“Crap—sorry. Really, sorry… You know what I meant, though, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I know…” Link let himself relax.

The crackling fireplace filled their awkward silence. Link hugged one of his knees to himself. He took mental stock of what was in the living room: the same old fireplace, alive and burning; the same old wood floor that creaked with the winter wind; the same old rug on the floor at their feet. Link’s eyes briefly flew to the bare display hooks on the wall, where he could’ve sworn his dad’s shotgun used to be.

“Are we really going to be okay?” Link looked back at the fireplace.

Rhett seemed to have wandered into his own thoughts. “Y’mean tonight? Or in general?”

Link continued to watch glowing embers fall from the firewood. He threw his hands up. “Yes.”

Link could hear Rhett’s silent chuckle. He then felt his familiar, all-encompassing arm wrap around his shoulders, hugging him close to Rhett’s side.

“We’ll survive the night. We’ve done it before.” Rhett’s breathing was deep and even. “Beyond that: all we can do is keep trying.”

Link smiled. “We were lounging on this couch, the first time we were here. Just like this.”

Rhett shifted in his seat. “I think we did a bit more than that.”

“I know. I just had the biggest deja vu right now… It feels like I was a whole other person two years ago...heck, _one_ year ago. So much younger. And a lot sadder…”

“Yeah...” He rubbed Link’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Angrier, too. Gosh, it feels good to mellow out, y’know?”

“I hear ya. That was high school in a nutshell. So much angst. And even more bad hair choices.”

“Terrible,” Link grinned.

Rhett laughed with him. He then let his thumb absently rub Link’s shoulder. “I do remember being here... That day. We were talking...and it got pretty intense...I could tell there was something eating at you…”

Link adjusted his glasses. Rhett’s touch felt like a stone dropped in water, creating a rippling sensation throughout his body. A certain catch in the air made his chest tighten, but in the best way. His skin tingled; his heart picked up in rhythm, as if he was at the start of a race. And yet the rest of his body was in sublime comfort, nestled on a soft-enough couch with the only boy he’d ever fallen for.

Link pressed his lips and gulped. He pushed the bridge of his glasses with his thumb again.

Rhett turned and looked at Link: those tortoiseshell glasses were really cute on him, and they fit his face. He looked like the same dork underneath those spectacles, but he seemed like a brand new person. The firelight set his soft cheeks aglow.

“Like right now…” Rhett’s voice trailed off. “You’re kinda stiff.”

“You could say that.”

Rhett’s arm moved away, but he craned his neck closer, squinting at Link. “Don’t be coy.”

Link slowly turned to face Rhett. They weren’t quite nose-touching, but Link had become familiar with the intimate space their faces could create sometimes. It was almost as comfortable as the couch they shared. But nearly as warm as the fireplace. If not more.

“Is there something on my face?” Link touched his lips.

“No.” Rhett smiled. His eyes danced across the valleys and curves of Link’s face. “Every wrinkle’s where it should be.”

Link couldn’t help but lower his eyes; he felt himself smile, and he couldn’t stop. He could still sense Rhett staring at him.

“Wrinkle, my ass,” Link laughed.

Rhett made a face, like it could’ve crumpled into an embarrassed ball. “I question your choice of words, Link.” Rhett then cradled Link’s jaw in his hand. “Hey, you’re warm,” he murmured.

Link looked back up, matching Rhett’s penetrating stare. “So are you, dingus,” he shot back.

They sat there, trapped in each other’s stare, alight in the crisp, dancing fire. The rest of the cabin - the whole world it seemed - didn’t exist for a few sweet moments.

Link smiled. “I like this.”

“ ‘This’? ” Rhett’s brow shot up.

“This...whatever this is.” Link clasped the hand that was on his cheek. He closed his eyes and let himself press his cheek against Rhett’s hand, like the softest pillow. “I’m so happy this is where we are.”

“Oh, bo,” Rhett sighed. His voice and breath came closer to Link—it tickled Link’s nose.

Their foreheads touched.

“I never want to let this go,” Rhett whispered.

Link opened his eyes: all he saw was Rhett. He filled Link’s vision, his world. The huge dork that had been by his side for years now and hopefully for many more to come, through pure hell and back.

And if the distant howling, windy screeches from the winter night outside were any indicator, Link would willingly face hell again, if Rhett was at his side. He was ready.

His hand reached around and rested on the nape of Rhett’s neck.

“We’ll never have to anymore,” Link said.

He pulled him closer.

“...What happened after we lounged on the couch?” Rhett asked breathlessly.

Their warm breaths mingled with each other. They were so close. It felt right.

“This,” Link murmured.

He kissed him gently. Rhett’s lips were so soft, it wasn’t fair. Rhett kissed him back more fervently. Their hands tentatively moved, contouring each other. It felt like kissing and feeling each other for the first time, rediscovering the electricity that coursed between them. Link couldn’t help but moan a little.

“God,” Rhett sighed. His hands traveled down Link’s body, down to his waist. “...God I want you.”

Link pushed Rhett back, making him sink onto the couch. It wasn’t long before Link found himself astride Rhett. One by one, articles of clothing came off to reveal precious, precious skin: carved collarbones; freckled shoulders; a warm neck. Link buried deep, deep kisses into Rhett. He savored all the whimpers that escaped Rhett’s mouth, as Link felt a rush of blood and pressure building in his hiking pants.

All their clothes found themselves strewn about the rug. Even in their boxers, the room felt sweltering hot. But they didn’t care.

Link gazed upon Rhett: the boy absolutely glowed in the firelight. Rhett looked so strong and yet vulnerable. There was a sweetness in his smile, and a fire in his eyes.

Link couldn’t help but notice the three deep scars on Rhett’s chest.

He gulped. He might’ve actually felt his heart skip a beat.

“I need you,” Link whispered.

Link lowered himself to kiss Rhett again. But Rhett leaned up and gently kissed him first.

“Take me,” Rhett whispered against Link’s lips.

Their kisses grew sloppier. Link could feel his heart drum madly. The smell of sweat and burning oak filled his panting lungs. Link cried out—one thrust from Rhett against Link’s hardness sent shivers through both of them.

 

The distant howling, screeching from outside blended with their sighs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been officially (and approximately) a year since I first thought of this fic idea, right about when my friends first introduced me to Until Dawn and I was watching GMM more religiously than I do now. (still love 'em, obviously, but life kicks ya in the butt) I'm pretty stoked to be able to finish my first long-form fic. Thank you, thank you so much to y'all; every little kudos or comment really encouraged me to keep going at a snail's pace. ~


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